The Divine Gambit
by lickitysplit
Summary: The clans of Britannia are at war. One move after another is made, with no winners in sight. But then a demon and a goddess are pitted against one another as pawns, and in their meeting, the game begins to change.
1. Prologue

**Summary:** The clans of Britannia are at war. One move after another is made, with no winners in sight. But then a demon and a goddess are pitted against one another as pawns, and in their meeting, the game begins to change.

 **A/N:** Welcome to my new fic. I have been writing this for almost a year, and after many different versions I am proud and excited to finally be publishing this story. I'm not quite done writing it yet, but this will be several chapters long. I am publishing just the prologue today, with further chapters to be published every Friday.

I must thank several people without whom this fic would not have happened. I had the pleasure to work with Cerulean Grace as my beta, and I thank you immensely for all the feedback and the discussions on writing. I'm always so grateful for your insight and ideas, and I'd be a mess without you.

My two very good friends, Galfridus and woundedowl, served as cheerleaders, sounding boards, and tear dryers as I went through one chapter after another. Thank you so much for your unending support and for not gagging me as I agonized over the details.

Now thank you to you, for taking the time to read, and hopefully giving this story a chance. I welcome your feedback in all shapes and sizes; knowing there is someone out there reading and enjoying this story is more reward than you know.

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _It's like a holy war_  
 _When the masses march upon me._  
 _The whole scene leaves me sore_ —  
 _A hole seen by those who soar_ —  
 _And, broken and bloodied,_  
 _I grin up at them and ask for more._

 _It's like a holy war,_  
 _And its when those holy bastards_ —  
 _A horde, a mass, of masochistic masters_ —  
 _Hone on me like a holy task, there's_  
 _No greater sight for my eyes to see._  
 _When they're still so certain;_  
 _Certain that the unholy one is me._

 _In this war of a devils against devil,_  
 _It won't be the youngbloods left to revel._

 _I don't see why you can't admit it:  
_ _That you've become demons, just like I did.  
_ _Yes, there's a darkness within me,  
_ _But, as the villain you want to see,  
_ _I'm afraid that I just can't take credit.  
_ _When the greatest sin that I've committed,  
_ _Was shedding light on all that you all did._

 _—Nathan Squiers_

Meliodas scowls, tapping his foot impatiently. "How long is this going to _take_?" he snaps out, glaring over at the short, stocky demon with wild hair and a bushy beard hovering nearby.

"Steady, my prince," he soothes, giving a little bow. "As the poets say, _patience is a conquering virtue_."

"Shut up, Chandler," mutters the prince, smirking as the older demon promptly snaps his mouth shut. He pulls at the suit that he has been coerced into, unused to formal clothes. Children in the demon realm are free to run about as they pleased; the prince is nearing the cusp of adolescence, waiting for his powers to emerge fully and reveal the symbol of his demon heritage on his brow. None had ever received theirs as young as he, but Meliodas can feel it growing inside of him and rocking under his skin to be let loose, especially now that he is _here_.

Heaving a sigh, he folds his arms and looks around. It is his first time in the Celestial Realm, and he hates every inch of it. The sweeping columns and white stone of the palace, the gray marble carved into staircases, the statues of heroes and lovers that seemed to crowd every inch are utterly ridiculous. It seems as though they are trying so very hard to rival the demons' superiority with this show of power, but how could they? His mouth curls up in a devilish smile as he imagines covering the marble stairs with bodies, the white and cream of the halls stained red with blood.

But he'd need a sword for that, and his mouth twists for a moment when he remembers he doesn't have one anymore. Meliodas had killed too many people last month, running through the halls of the castle one afternoon and slaying everyone in his path. It had just been a game, but one of the demons he slaughtered was the daughter of someone important, so Meliodas had to be reprimanded. Chandler had him stripped of his sword, apologizing profusely at the screaming and stomping prince throughout the ordeal. It was one of his own, too, the first he had made since learning the craft.

His lips curl up as he thinks of the one he is working on now, in secret. His tutor will be the first to give it blood when it's done. But he has to get home in order to finish it, and in order to do _that_ , he has to finish _this_.

With a huff puts his hands on his hips. "I want to _go_ ," he complains again, his foot stomping. "Why are they making me wait? Do they know who I am?"

"I assure you, Your Highness, they are well aware," coos Chandler. "His Majesty is already inside."

That earns another heaving sigh. Meliodas bares his teeth in a ferocious snarl, clenching his fists at the side as his eyes roll to the top of his head. The only thing keeping him from lashing out is the fact that his father is beyond the great doors in front of them. Meliodas may be the most powerful demon born in an age, but the king is still stronger. It is a rare experience for the king to turn his attention to his only son, and not an entirely pleasant one either.

A goddess walks up, and he sneers at her disgusting beauty. "They are ready to receive His Highness," she announces formally, and at once Chandler is pulling on his collar and smoothing the back of his hair.

"Get off me!" Meliodas pushes him away, but Chandler does not bat an eye at the outburst. Instead he holds out a small box, wrapped in silver leaf, the brightly lit sconces in the hall dancing enticingly against it.

"Here is the present for the princess," he explains. "Don't forget to—"

"Why does _she_ get a present and I _don't_?" demands the prince, yanking the box from his hands. "She's just a stupid baby."

"The poets say, _generosity is a sign of sovereign power_ ," murmurs the tutor.

Meliodas aims a kick at the tutor, who dodges it gracefully. The goddesses at the door are whispering to one another, so he shoots them an angry glare before looking down at the box in his hands. It is just a plain wooden box, but thin leaves of silver foil are pressed to the grain in decoration. It catches the light and sends it sparkling, and for a moment the prince watches as little specks of light dance on the floor and wall, reflecting from the silver. Then one of the goddesses giggles, and he realizes he is being watched; quickly he puts the box behind him.

Before he can lash out again, the doors open, and Meliodas sucks in a deep breath and lifts his chin as he stalks forward. The room falls into a hush as the young prince walks with confident strides through the parting crowd. There are goddesses filling the room to the brim, and he can feel all eyes on him, heads turning in his direction. But the prince of demons does not feel any apprehension or doubt. Instead, their gazes, some curious, some with animosity, feed his hungry ego. _Nothing but a pack of stupid birds_ , he thinks, glaring at the two archangels standing guard. They stare back with cold expressions, and Meliodas feels quite pleased with himself.

His eyes remain straight ahead, head tilting down slightly as he approaches the Supreme Deity. The queen of the goddess clan is nearly as large as his own father, but her presence is shrunken down enough to fit inside the castle. Next to her, his father has done the same, drawing his body inwards to be able to enjoy the day. They are speaking to one another quietly, heads tilted towards one another.

Meliodas can feel his stomach twist at the sight. This entire thing is so _stupid_. Why were they seeking peace with this vile clan? His father was the most powerful being in the known world; one flick of his wrist or a word fallen from his lips, and entire kingdoms would fall. There is nothing that the goddesses or any other clan could offer that even comes close. It is what he was always told, and what he himself has observed.

Yet here he is, murmuring to the Supreme Deity, allowing his dark nature to be touched by her blinding light. Allowing his own son, his _only_ son, to be promised in marriage to the little brat the queen has spit out. What irks him most is how pleased they all are, even the demons that are scattered among the crowd. No one asked him what _his_ opinion was of all this; even though it is his life and his fate they are all deciding in this cursed hall. Of course, Meliodas would have preferred to annihilate every one of them, still not fully understanding why they did not do just that.

To the side of the dais on which the king and queen sit and speak to one another, a cradle of pure gold is surrounded by goddesses shrouded head to toe in white silk. They titter and swarm the crib, but also finally part when he draws near. Meliodas stops a few steps from the gold monstrosity, his eyes cold and his mouth in a tight scowl as he waits to be acknowledged. Meliodas _hates_ waiting.

"My son," the king finally says. His voice is as dark and heavy as the night, and Meliodas cannot help but feel pleased at the shiver that goes through the audience watching. The goddesses in the room titter, their feathers rippling in fear, the power of the archangels flaring briefly as if in response. He lowers his eyes immediately, the one lesson he has always followed, as the king's gaze turns to fall on him. Then he peers up through his blonde bangs to sneak a look at the goddess beside him.

He can barely make out the deep eyes and haughty features through the blinding white of her power, glowing in an aura around her. But Meliodas keeps his face stoic, something that he has learned to do despite his age. He knows how unsettling it is with his youthful looks, and looks forward to seeing the goddess squirm under his glare as all the others, save his father, do.

To his surprise, the Supreme Deity only stares back. Sweat forms on the back of his neck, the silence around him now stifling instead of exciting. His throat goes dry as he tries to swallow, until finally, finally, he cannot take her eyes on him any longer, and his drop to the floor.

The queen gives a little noise in the back of her throat, a cross between acceptance of his submission and a clear dismissal. Meliodas can feel the tips of his ears burning, and a small crack comes from where he is clutching the box so tightly the edges begin to snap inward. The two monarchs return to their hushed conversation, and now the prince is left awkward and confused. He looks around for a sign of what to do next when one of the shrouded goddesses waves him closer.

With a quick glance behind him, Meliodas walks towards the cradle. One of the four reaches out a hand, and when he realizes why he hands her the gift, now bent where his fingertips had gripped the sides. Another sweeps behind him, a hand on his back; before he realizes what is happening he is pressed gently towards the cradle, the goddess silently asking, _would you like to see the princess_?

Cautiously Meliodas steps up, leaning forward to peer inside. There are swaths of white blankets, as bright as clouds, and in the center is a baby with creamy skin and dusty cheeks. There are wisps of silver hair that curl around her brow and her ears, her chubby face and arms framed by the intricate lace of the coverlet hanging over the babe. The scent of new life drifts upwards, something he had never experienced before. Her eyes are closed, her little mouth slightly open as she sleeps peacefully. There are no signs of wings yet, and he wonders with disgust what they will look like as they grow.

 _This_ is the princess he is being made to marry when they are of age? This fragile little thing? His lip curls with the thought that this baby will be worthy of even breathing the same air. The humiliation in front of the Supreme Deity is quickly fading as the prince regains the feeling of superiority that wraps around him like a comforting blanket. He could snuff out this life with just a finger, he decides; perhaps, one day, he will do just that.

He leans a bit further in, hearing those watching murmur a bit, undoubtedly gushing over the sight of the future rulers of their clans meeting for the first time. It must be a great honor for them, he muses, to be in his presence. One day he will ascend the throne of the demon realm and wipe every one of them out.

Meliodas breathes in the scent of the baby one more time, and when his face is just an inch from hers he pauses. He can feel the pricks of heat under his skin—his demon mark. It has been struggling to break free with the growing awakening of his power, not quite ready to appear, but soon if Chandler is to be believed.

Smiling, he whispers to the girl, "I hate you."

Nothing happens with his declaration, but a split second later, she opens her eyes. Two blue jewels land on him, and at once a sliver of black ink bleeds into view on his skin, burning as it slides along his brow.


	2. Chapter One: The Grace of Gods

**Chapter One: The Grace of Gods**

 _Is there such a thing as destiny?  
Heaven or hell?  
I am looking for an answer  
But no one wants to tell._

 _Why do some lives end  
And some continue on?  
Maybe life's a chess game  
And each one of us a pawn._

— _h. c._

The tavern is bustling, filled to the brim with patrons. Men and women are nearly stuffed inside, every chair and stool and table taken up by the people from the local village. It is the spring festival, and this final night is cool and clear and perfect for celebrating. And celebrate they do, the ale flowing, the laughter long, the songs loud.

The evening wears on, and the talk in the tavern goes from jovial to boasting as the villagers become increasingly intoxicated. The looming war among the clans, specifically the demons and goddesses, begins to hang heavily on the mood. The humans cannot hope to compete among the powers of those beings, only praying that they can keep from being crushed underfoot in the battles to come. Eventually the boasting takes on some bitterness, and some of the men begin grandstanding, making claims as to how they will bring peace to Britannia and save their families.

"I'll bet those demons aren't even that terrible," one slurs, slamming his mug on the table to make his point. "If they were so powerful, why aren't they here? Huh?"

The room quiets down with the ongoing rant. "Those demons are _nothing_. All that talk about how they can kill like it's nothing… they are _nothing_."

"That's not true!" a woman shouts across the tavern. "They can kill you just by _looking_ at you. They got claws as big as windows and they eat people. They come in the dark and take what they want."

"The demon king has thousands and thousands of slaves," another interjects. "No one can die, either. You just live as a slave forever."

The first man waves his hand around, his cheeks red as he vigorously shakes his head. "Nonsense! There's no _king_ of demons. They aren't that smart. That's like saying there's a king of bears in the woods."

Laughter erupts, but only from half the room. The rest shift uncomfortably. "Not wise to talk about demons," an old man at the bar says when the voices die back down. "Like as not, you'll summon one up."

"I heard the goddesses are even _worse_ ," says one of the serving girls, leaning over the bar. "They want to be worshipped but they are really evil. When you pledge to the goddesses they take your children as offering."

More laughter then, the girl blushing. "It's true!" she squeals over the din. "My grandmother told me that! She even saw one once!"

"So did I!" A very inebriated man clambers up onto a table to shouts of encouragement from the others. "She was as tall as a house and had long blonde hair down to her knees. Her dress was made of gold, and she had wings as big as all this!" He flings his arms out and flaps them up and down.

"Sounds like your wife!" someone calls out, followed by more laughter.

"I wish," he sighs. "Because her tits—" He pauses in his speech, a glazed look in his eye, and his hands move to his chest to indicate a very large pair of breasts. "She had tits the size of two big silos, the tips as pointy as—"

"Sounds like your mother!" a woman shouts, and suddenly it is chaos in the tavern as they call and joke and the one who claimed to see a goddess topples off of the table.

The old man at the bar snorts into his cup at the ridiculous sounds behind him. "Bunch of know-nothings," he mutters to himself. He drains his drink and blearily looks up, trying to signal the bartender; however, the man is busy with his hands up the blouse of one of the girls, all laughing about whether hers are as big as the goddess'.

"No-good know-nothings," he mumbles again, and then to his surprise, a fresh mug is placed in front of him.

"Here you are, old man," says a voice that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. "Looks like you could use another."

His hands shake and his knuckles turn pale as he grips his empty stein. Slowly the old man turns and looks at the young one now leaning next to him at the bar. His blond hair is wild, pointing in every direction, the bangs falling forward and into his eyes. He glimpses what looks like a tattoo of some sort on his brow, which is an odd thing to find in those parts; yet his clothing is strange too, foreign somehow, even though they are hundreds of miles from the next kingdom. All in black, darker than the night sky, they seem to almost swirl around him in a material he does not recognize.

But the two things that he focuses on are not his hair or his dark clothes or the markings on his skin. It is not the cold tone in his voice or the formal way of speaking. It is not even the confident way the stranger stands, as if he owns the tavern, owns the entire village even.

No, what the old man focuses on are the very black eyes in the young man's face, so black that no colored irises can be seen, and the slowly widening smile, the cruelty evident in its shape, making him look like the devil himself.

"Something the matter?" the young man says. A shudder rolls through him, and the old man blinks and looks around to see if anyone else feels what he feels. But they are back to their revelry, and it is once again turning dangerous. The voices are too loud, the jokes too harsh, the laughter too biting; the old man knows just one spark will ignite the crowd into madness.

His eyes go back to the blonde, still smiling. He nods to the cup, and reluctantly the old man picks it up and drinks. The liquid is cool and delicious, not the typical ale that is readily available in those parts that is bitter and strong. This tastes like danger.

The blonde nods as if an understanding has passed between them. The old man assumes this must be true enough, although what _it_ was he could not be sure. The two continue drinking for a short time, the sounds behind him growing in strength. He wishes he could leave, but he knows it would be pointless to try. "If you are going to kill me," he finally says, "I'd prefer it to be quick."

To his surprise, the blonde does not deny it. "Are you that ready to die then?" he asks before taking another sip.

"No," he admits. "But I've had a cursed life. You demons cursed me."

There is some satisfaction as the young man turns his head and narrows his eyes. "We demons?"

The old man ignores the question. "I saw one as a child. It was taller than the church steeple, thin as a rail, the color of ash. It had long fingers that ended in claws sharper than blades." He pauses to finish the cup, unsurprised when it is immediately replenished. "But its eyes were empty, and I'll never forget that. It looked at me, and all I saw was a nightmare staring back."

"Demons don't curse humans," his companion scoffs.

Shrugging, he continues, "Doesn't matter, I was cursed since that day. I was the only one spared, and my Nan said I was blessed. But how can I be blessed when that thing looked at me?"

Suddenly he shivers, the shudder wracking his frail frame. "Go on and kill me then. I've been waiting."

"If you are that eager for death, I can oblige you," the blonde answers.

The old man nods. "You demons are killers." There is a scream from behind them now, and without thinking his head turns at the sound. The tavern is growing dark, the candlelight snuffed out, the lanterns turning down. Not even the moon and stars shed any light inside.

He shrinks back a bit when he realizes the darkness is now _moving_ , slinking around the wooden tables and the legs of the patrons like a mist, filling their ears and nostrils and making their hair stand on end. One by one they fall into a choking silence. There is a dripping noise, like rain on the rooftop. He somehow knows if the darkness receded he would see blood on the floor.

"Not all demons are," says the man beside him, and he whirls around in panic. The young man's back is still facing the now-silent tavern, and he leisurely sips from his cup. "Some of us are just bored."

"Bored?" the old man chokes, filling with fear.

Instead of answering, the blonde looks into his cup. "You know what's wrong with you humans? You can't even make a decent mug of ale." He tips his head back to drain the rest, his throat moving as he swallows, a drop trailing from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Then he swipes his sleeve across his mouth, glaring over at the old man. "As useless as ants, all of you. And I'm bored with you."

He cannot look away, cannot hope to escape. He waits for the pain to start, or the squeezing, or the fire; however this being has decided to end him. But incredibly, he slides from the stool, dropping a coin on the counter, and heads for the door. The old man cannot see the bodies he knows are empty of souls in the darkness; all he can see is the retreating figure reaching for the door handle. "You won't kill me?" he calls out, his voice high and tight.

"And make your old Nan a liar? Nah."

The bell above the door tinkles, and the demon finds it to be a pleasant sound. Just a simple little thing, but it pleases him to hear it again as he pulls the wooden door shut behind him with a slam. Inside, he knows the darkness has receded when he hears the screams of the old man. With a chuckle the blonde jumps down the steps to strike off towards the next town.

* * *

The day wanes on, and Elizabeth waits. She sits in a intricately carved high-back chair in front of a small table laid with lace and china. Slowly she turns her spoon in the cup, her eyes drifting occasionally to the empty chair across from her.

A breeze drifts through the window, lifting the tendrils that hang down from the knot her hair is twisted into on the top of her head. She does not speak, having no companion. The only sound is the soft clink of the cup that she occasionally raises to her lips and sits down again on its saucer. She smooths her palms along the front of her gown and adjusts the gloves on her hands before straightening the pearl necklace that hangs against her collarbone. Elizabeth sits with her back straight and her ankles crossed, her hands in her lap when she is not sipping the tea. It is delicious and rich, just like everything else in the Celestial Realm: the tea, the food, the fabrics, the music.

Her mother, the queen, has worked tirelessly to bring peace to Britannia and power to the Celestial Realm. Because of her efforts, all of the goddesses lived in secure, content luxury. There is no want or need in their clan; there is only poised grace and simple beauty. Even the air is sweet to breathe.

A servant approaches to see about removing the things, but Elizabeth holds up a hand. The girl scurries away at the silent command, disappearing back into wherever it was the servants waited. It is the highest honor to be in service to the royal family, whether by caring for the queen and her heir, or by protecting the realm with arms. Their sacrifice in the queen's honor raises them above all others, but even servants need a reprimand once in a while.

Elizabeth turns to look out the window. The breeze drifts in again, lifting the sheer curtains that hang from ceiling to floor. She can feel the air threading through the white wings that are folded behind her, and with a soft smile her eyes move downward to watch the feathers lift gently.

The day wears on, and she watches as the sun begins to dip in the sky. No one approaches the goddess as she sits in her silent luncheon, where she has sat since mid-morning, waiting. Occasionally Elizabeth will lift the cup carefully to her lips, but other than that, she makes no movements.

Finally, when the sun has sunk beneath the balcony and the room is cast in purple shadow, the princess stands. Immediately there are servants around her, pulling out her chair and taking the tea things and assisting her with her shawl. To each she gives a small smile of thanks, pleased to see their blushing faces, knowing that she has rewarded them with a gift.

As she glides towards the door, a familiar face appears in the doorway. "Your Highness," says the tall goddess, giving a deep, respectful bow as she approaches.

"Ludoshel," she says in greeting. "I shall retire to my room now."

"Of course." The archangel steps aside, giving another bow as she walks by. Elizabeth turns down the hallway and heads to the rooms that are for her own use, where she has spent her entire life in the blissful comfort that the queen provides.

"Her Grace sends her best," Ludoshel murmurs as he falls in pace behind her. "There was a matter to attend in eastern Britannia. Our queen works tirelessly for the good of the world."

Elizabeth nods with a sigh. A slight tremble goes through her as she thinks of how her mother is gone, unable to rest because of the suffering of others. "Do the other races appreciate all that my mother does? Do they honor her deeds as they should?"

"They sing her praises throughout Britannia," assures Ludoshel.

The princess nods again, but is unconvinced. Not all must sing the praises of the queen, the demons in particular. Her blood turns to ice when she thinks of the despicable race, bent on death and destruction. So when they reach her chambers, she asks him inside to talk a while, and unable to refuse, he graciously accepts.

They find her table laid with sweet bread, soft cheese, ripe fruits. Ludoshel offers her rich red wine, but the princess demurs. They had shared a table a handful of times in the past, outside of the royal affairs often held in the palace, so the two companions are comfortable enough that Elizabeth can remove her gloves. She places them on the pristine tablecloth before taking a knife to slice through the still-warm bread. "Tell me please, Ludoshel," she says, and he nods respectfully. "You say that the other races know of my mother's sacrifices. But how do you know this?"

He grins at the question, pausing to dab at his mouth with the linen napkin. "Her Majesty's name is sung from one end of Britannia to the other. The humans and fairies and giants lift their voices in praise as they offer gifts in thanks."

Her heart leaps a bit at this news. "Of course, she refuses," Elizabeth smiles.

"Naturally," responds Ludoshel. "Their love is her thanks, their adoration her payment. Besides," he continues quietly, leaning in a bit as Elizabeth raises her eyebrows in surprise, "what could the other races possibly offer to one such as our queen? She is light, she is perfection. She is a gift."

"A gift," echoes Elizabeth.

It is true, and Elizabeth ponders this for a moment. Without her mother, the world would surely be dragged into darkness by the demons. It is she alone who keeps them at bay, her guidance and strength what keeps the other clans fighting the evil that seeps into the world. They eat in silence for a few minutes, and then Elizabeth questions, "Ludoshel, how long has it been since my mother returned to the Celestial Realm?"

"Hmm," he murmurs, chewing thoughtfully. "I believe it has been ten months since Her Grace was last here. The separation from her beloved daughter must be weighing heavily on our queen."

Elizabeth nods sadly. "She is a marvel, to sacrifice her own comfort in order to bring aid to Britannia."

"But things _are_ looking better," Ludoshel assures her. "In fact, the queen sent word that she will return in the morning, and will see you for tea."

The princess gasps, every muscle trembling with excitement she struggles to maintain. "What a blessing that would be! I do miss her so very much." Her voice trembles as she thinks of the woman who leads their clan. Her radiant light is a source of comfort and life to so many, that Elizabeth feels a pang at her selfishness. "But I must not complain," she says quietly. "After all, whatever sacrifice I make for Britannia, my mother is giving tenfold."

"Wisely spoken, Your Highness."

Their meal concluded, more servants swoop in, earning themselves a murmured thanks from the princess. Ludoshel smiles at her warmly, and Elizabeth is happy to know she is doing her small part.

This sparks an idea. "What is the trouble this time?" she asks as the sweets are laid out between them.

Ludoshel looks up and waits for the servants to leave, and then leans over the table. "Demons," he says quietly, "doling out death and destruction to any that stand up to their mayhem."

"Of course." It was always the demons anymore, causing suffering and death not for power or gain, but simply because. Her hands clench into fists in her lap. If Elizabeth was in charge, she would see them scoured from the earth, she would deal them justice in fire and light.

But this is why she is not queen. So she carefully packages the swirling storm inside of her away and takes several steadying breaths until the cool exterior returns. A queen must be steady in mind and actions, and Elizabeth feels a flush of embarrassment at her violent thoughts. "Perhaps I should go too," she muses, twisting her fingers into the fabric of her dress as she concentrates hard on keeping her voice even. "I can aid the queen in comforting the people."

"No, Your Highness," says Ludoshel sadly. "It is too great a risk. If the demons were to get their hands on you, then one can only imagine what sort of agony would befall our queen."

Elizabeth shudders at the thought. She would gladly sacrifice herself to save her mother, or for the good of the people; but knowing her death would cause the queen so much pain is enough of a deterrent that the princess acquiesces. "If only I had the power to help," she sighs, deflating into her chair.

"You do," he assures her. "Your faith in our queen and your example of strength and humility give us all hope in these dark times. And tomorrow, when the battles continue, then we will call upon you to pray."

She gives her agreement, but then frowns. "I thought you said the queen will return tomorrow?"

"She hopes to return tomorrow," he answers smoothly. "And if not, we will send her our strength the best we know how."

Elizabeth watches silently as Ludoshel chooses a small cake and tastes a corner. He is right, of course, but it makes it no easier to swallow. They all have their part to play in this conflict, and Elizabeth says a silent prayer to herself that she will figure out a way to end it once and for all.

* * *

It has been nearly fifty years since Meliodas appeared in the demon realm, so when he arrives unannounced, there is some understandable shock around the throne room. He walks through the crowd of demons who gasp and whisper as they scramble to make way for him. It is somewhat satisfying to know that even after his extended absence, the demons still fear him.

The king does not acknowledge him. Meliodas notes he has grown _larger_ somehow; the darkness gathered around him expanding outward. The room where the king spends his days is dimly lit, but it is impossible to look anywhere other than the hulking mass in the center. The black markings that cover his body swirl and contract, moving constantly in an inky dance to form hair, arms, torso, legs. How much is the power and how much is the person it is hard even for his eldest son to tell anymore.

The demon king has devolved while he was away into more magic than being. It would be disgusting if Meliodas did not find it so pitiful. His father had been the greatest being in any realm; now he is confined to a chair, cloaked in only his greed and his rage.

The only other things in the massive hall are a pack of simpering advisors who frantically whisper to one another. They turn worriedly between the king and the approaching prince, trapped by fear of both beings. Meliodas sighs to himself, now finding their terror annoying. "Your Grace!" he calls out, and the murmuring ceases, replaced by a stunned silence that is thick and choking.

The irritation is evident from the dark creature on the throne. "There is but one being who would dare to interrupt the king of demons."

All shudder at the voice, except for the blonde looking up at the dais through his bangs. "I am but a humble servant to Your Grace." As if to prove his point, Meliodas gives a low, sweeping bow.

"What you are is tiresome," the king replies. "What are you doing here? I figured you had forgotten your allegiances."

"My allegiances?" Meliodas laughs. "I hadn't realized I had any." The power from the throne pulses for a moment, but quickly the demon continues, "I had heard there might be a war. Is that true?"

There is another heavy silence, and then the king says, "Leave us." Quickly the demons in the hall scurry towards the exits, not wanting to be the last in the king's vision. When the doors bang closed and the two are alone, the king asks, "What are you playing at now?"

"Just a son wishing to please his father."

"You are a demon who turned your back on your own kind," the king growls. Meliodas can sense the power level rising slowly, like clouds gathering for a storm. Could this be the moment when the king makes his move? One or the other will have to strike at some point to decide who will rule. He is sure many would have assumed he would have done it by now, but if the demon is truthful, he does not care about taking the throne. He can take it at any time, after all.

The threat grows but Meliodas is unafraid. He does not bother with putting up his own blockade, because the king has grown so decrepit he can no longer even stand. And the king knows full well that magic attacks are useless against one such as himself.

So Meliodas stifles a yawn as he waits for his father to retreat back into his own dark mind. Not out of respect or kindness, but simply not wanting to draw out this useless and pathetic stand off any longer than necessary. When the tendrils of black stop their progression, he places his hands on his hips and says, "So do you want my help or not? Britannia is nothing but a rock but if you want it that badly, I could be of some use."

"I don't want your _help_ ," the king snaps. "I want your loyalty. I don't ask my own son to do what he was born to do. I expect it."

Meliodas snorts. "What exactly was I born to do again?"

The king rises a bit in his chair. "You will take the goddess for your wife and—"

"Second thought, not interested." The demon turns with a smirk and starts to walk away, but the king's commanding voice stops him. "There is a weapon."

Now _that_ sounds as if it could be interesting. "What kind of weapon?" asks Meliodas, looking over his shoulder, but not bothering to turn around.

"We don't know," the king replies. Meliodas hates the smile he could hear creeping into his father's voice; but he still wants to know, and he hates that even more. "Something is causing the red and gray demons to disobey orders and abandon their position. I want you to go and find out what it is."

"What?" Meliodas asks after a moment. "Or who?"

There is a low chuckle, a sound that would be devastating to any other to hear. "Either."

He contemplates for a moment. "Do you suspect the goddesses are behind this?"

"We don't know," the king answers again, but the prince scoffs and turns around. "I don't believe you," he accuses. "Why is this the first I am hearing this? I may not have been here but you had the Commandments at your disposal. If not the goddesses, then why not eliminate the threat?"

"Things are not what they once were—"

A snap of dark flame shoots down Meliodas' arm. "No, they are not," he growls. His eyes are set as he stares at the monarch on his hulking throne. "When I am king, they will be again."

Of all the things Meliodas had expected in response of his thinly veiled threat, laughter was not one of them. But it is laughter he receives, a scraping gasp that leaves him uneasy. "If you want to take on the goddess clan, then be my guest," the king rasps. "But things are _not_ what they were, no matter how much you wish otherwise. They are powerful, strong, and have many allies."

"I don't care what allies—"

"They could have been _our_ allies!" The furious roar of the king sends the floors and walls cracking, pieces of broken stone lifting in the reverberation that follows in the wake of the sound. The demon's voice had sent the air gusting, and as his words bounce against the frame of the hall, the entire palace shaking with his wrath.

Yet Meliodas stands unmoving, the king's anger soothing in its familiarity. " _Our_ allies," the king spits again. "And they will be, once _you_ marry that princess as you were born to do. Then we will have this realm, and theirs, and nothing will stop us, once and for all."

The idea is so simple, it feels ridiculous. "If you suspect the goddesses of acting against the demons," Meliodas says slowly, "then why are you so insistent I marry one?"

The fury of the king has receded back into his form, the black tendrils once again moving over what is left of his body. "I hear she is very beautiful," he offers in answer.

With that, the tension between the two dissipates, and Meliodas rolls his eyes. "I will find this weapon, but I will not hear talk of the goddess again."

The king only responds, "I trust you'll know what to do when you find it."

Electricity shoots through his veins as his magic responds hungrily to the idea, pricking his forehead as it skims the outline of his demon mark. The idea of hunting is so enticing, that just this one time, he'll do as the king commands.


	3. Chapter Two: The Sides of Truth

**Chapter Two: The Sides of Truth**

 _This side of the truth,  
You may not see, my son,  
King of your blue eyes  
In the blinding country of youth,  
That all is undone,  
Under the unminding skies,  
Of innocence and guilt  
Before you move to make  
One gesture of the heart or head,  
Is gathered and spilt  
Into the winding dark  
Like the dust of the dead._

— _Dylan Thomas_

The Captain of the Ten Commandments arrives at the base of the elite squad, a small building within the demon king's compound. He strolls in with a grin, the familiar room filled with weapons and trophies of former battles looking just as he had left it when he had decided that being commander was no longer interesting.

"My dear friends!" he calls, every one of them freezing to turn and look at the blonde demon. The other eleven are standing or sitting in the mismatched furniture, their talk stopping suddenly with his voice. "How I've missed you all."

"You fucking traitor!" growls a female voice, and he is immediately thrown across the room as a punch lands across his face. Meliodas crashes through the wall, pieces of wood and stone crumbling around him, dust billowing from the ground. His arms go up to block the next set of blows that come, dodging enough to keep himself from taking too much damage while relishing the power that pulses through in in response. One brutalizing punch after another lands on his head, arms, torso; but the demon is prepared for the continued assault. He waits for the opening that Derieri always presents—he's told her before about that right side she leaves exposed—and releases his own attack, sending her backwards.

Meliodas clears his throat, adjusting his clothing while the bruises and cuts on his body begin to heal. He takes a moment to sweep a hand through his hair before turning back to the others. In the brief time it took to straighten himself, the Commandments are now staring each other down: Derieri, Monspeet, Calmadios, and Fraudrin on one side, Estarossa stepping in front of the others to form a flank around their leader. "You _dare_?!" shouts the tall demon prince.

"Treason!" Aranak agrees, pulling his weapon.

The air is thick with hate, waiting for one flinch that will spark between them. But the tension in the room is cut when Meliodas' laughter fills the air. "No, it's fine. I wouldn't expect anything else from Derieri." He watches with a grin as the demon glares at him menacingly, her wild hair standing on end as she climbs to her feet, the black swirls that serve as clothing moving rapidly with her agitated stance. "Now that you have that out of your system, shall we make a plan?"

He can sense how the demons that stand to defend him relax their stances, but the four that dared to stand up to him seem to grow more tense. "You want us to make a plan? With you?" Calmadios laughs.

"Yes, exactly," Meliodas says pleasantly.

As he brushes a bit of rubble from his shoulder, his eyes remain on the female who attacked him. Her eyes are cold, narrowed, and he likes that she does not trust him immediately. He always thought Derieri was smarter than the others. "Something wrong with that?" he calls over, raising an eyebrow. "I am your Captain after all."

"Captain my _ass_ ," she spits out venomously.

"My guess is that Derieri wants to know why you have returned, and where you have been all this time," Monspeet adds. His voice is chilled, but steady, his energy guarded in opposition of the animosity rolling off of his companion. "As do we all, I'm sure, Captain."

"I was busy," Meliodas shrugs, and Estarossa draws himself up. He is taller than he remembers, and eyes the silver hair that falls around his face in an aggravatingly familiar way. "Meliodas does not need to answer you," his younger brother snaps. "He does not answer to _any_ of you."

"Shut up, Estarossa," snaps Meliodas, irritated now. If there is anything worse than their suspicion of him, it's their loyalty. He would take their questions any day over blind obedience.

The hurt look on his brother's face as he turns and stares at him in shock annoys him even further. "Their questions are fair and appropriate," Meliodas scolds him. Then he looks coldly across the room. "That doesn't mean I will be providing an answer."

For a long moment, the opposing Commandments stay poised to strike; but then at once they ease, the feeling in the air releasing its tension. "Typical," Galand mutters.

Meliodas strides into the middle of the group, and they form a half circle around him. The movement is familiar to them all as they fall into the old formation. Although he is the shortest of the group, the rest stand in attention that is fixed solely on him. It's as if nothing has changed in the years he was absent, Meliodas notes: Galand leans on his hammer, Monspeet's stoic expression in direct opposition to Derieri's menacing glare, Aranak looks around with sharp eyes. Melascula floats above the others with a sly smile as Zeno slinks in the shadows, Gowther watches with hands folded in his lap, and Estarossa stands nearly in salute, his youthful face set as he awaits his command.

"You're the one who called us here, Captain?" Melascula asks sweetly.

"Something is turning the demon soldiers," Meliodas says without introduction. "The king thinks someone is using a weapon against us. What do you know?"

Calmadios steps forward. "Well while _you_ were off doing… _whatever_ it is you were doing," he sneers, " _we_ have been seeing to the war. I have seen with my own eyes as squads of soldiers return to their masters, completely uninterested in fighting, going against their very natures."

"Their memories are wiped out," adds Melascula with a yawn. "They don't recall anything that happened at all."

The Captain thinks for a moment and says, "And have none of you gone and observed this phenomenon yourselves?" The silence that follows answers his question and he grits his teeth. "Not one of you is competent in my absence, I see. Or are you all just lazy without my constant presence?"

"Lazy!" Derieri snaps, but Monspeet stops her with a hand on her arm.

"There has been much to do," Zeno says as explanation.

He looks at each of them then, his murderous gaze delighting in how they each flinch in their own way. "Get a squad together," he finally says. "Create an Albion. We attack tonight."

"Attack—whom?" asks Galand.

Meliodas turns on him and practically growls, "Don't bother me with your stupidity. Can you not even handle these details?" His eyes train over the others. "And _this_ time, go with them so you can observe the weapon. An attack this large will certainly draw out the enemy."

"Wait a second, Captain," Melascula says. "Are you really going to use the king's soldiers as bait?"

His brow arches as he answers, "Are you objecting?" When the demon quickly shakes her head, he lifts his chin. "Get it ready. I'll be back by nightfall."

Meliodas turns to leave, but pauses when he sees Gowther. He has watched silently the entire time from his wheeled chair, his face blank except for the faintest smile. "You haven't said anything," he says to the demon.

Gowther gives a deep nod of his head, his eyes never leaving Meliodas' own. "It is excellent to see you in such good health, Captain," he says.

With a huff at the odd one, Meliodas continues heading towards the exit. But before he can get too far he hears his name again. He grits his teeth but pauses to allow his brother to catch up to him. "Where are you going?" Estarossa asks, stepping in front of him. "I should go with you, as a guard."

He looks at his brother then, his expression cold, his mouth drawn into a thin line. As tiresome as he brother can be, he can't bring himself to lash out. There is a part of him that would protect Estarossa if he needed to; an attack on one of the demons, particularly his family, is a slight against him personally. But at the same time, he does not care for him, or any of them. If Estarossa got in his way, or his youngest brother, or even his father, Meliodas would not bother to think twice before taking them out.

No, what stops Meliodas from snapping at his brother's irritating adoration is the fact that it would be counterproductive. It would not stop Estarossa from following him.

Not to mention, it would be too easy, which makes it not worth his while.

"Do you really suppose I need a guard, Estarossa?" he asks dryly. Meliodas is pleased to see the demon swallow nervously, the foolishness of such a suggestion dawning over his face. Yet he does not wish to be cruel; it will only encourage his brother to try harder. Instead he says, "I want you in charge of creating enough demons for the attack. I trust you can at least control them long enough to get them to the destination?"

"Yes!" Estarossa practically shouts.

"Good. Now get away from me."

Estarossa stumbles back a bit, before giving a brief nod and hurrying away. Meliodas rolls his eyes and continues walking. He will do a bit of hunting, he decides, to warm up for this mission. The demon heads off, alone.

* * *

The tea is cooling, and Elizabeth knows her mother is not coming. The small sliver of hope that she feels each morning when she wakes had not been present that morning. After her conversation with Ludociel the night before, she had known deep down that the queen would not be there.

Yet she had chosen a dress as beautiful as all the others, pulled her hair up and back the way the queen liked it, slipped on her gloves and shoes, and headed to the patio anyway. It was almost comforting to perform the same ritual each day, no matter how fruitless it would be in the end. Yet as the day wears on, an hour slipping by, then another, then _another_ , Elizabeth feels a familiar pit inside of her. It leaves a bad taste in her mouth as her heart picks up its rhythm, so the princess clears her throat and adjusts her necklace, forcing the trembling in her fingers to stop.

 _Focus, focus_ , she scolds herself. Her mother would not be so distraught. They had been fighting the demon clan back for more years than she could remember, and she should not be so affected.

She imagines what the queen is doing now. A being as good and as powerful as her mother is surely working hard to save and protect the people of Britannia. The world is filled with races of all kinds, and even the lowly humans or the terrifying vampires receive her care. Elizabeth cannot help but feel apprehension mixed in with the pride and awe when she thinks of her mother. One day she will need to take the helm of the kingdom and rise as its protector, but she hopes that day does not come for a very long time. The queen has instructed her to remain in the palace, to find her inner strength, so that she too can become queen one day.

But how can she do that, sitting here day after day, when the war rages on below? The war between demons and goddesses had been raging in Britannia for more years than counting, since before Elizabeth had even been born. Her mother had worked tirelessly for peace, had devoted her life, given up her own happiness and caring for her daughter in her efforts to stop the demons from taking control of the world. Britannia is home to any number of innocent races, who would be doomed if that happened.

This is what she has been taught since her childhood. It is the reality of Britannia and her people to hold the demon clan back, of that she is sure.

The thoughts of the demons and what they could be doing becomes overwhelming for a moment. Elizabeth's heart begins to race, and slowly she brings a napkin to press against her lips, blotting away the small line of perspiration that has formed. The _demons_ —that disgusting race of thieves and murderers, whose thirst for destruction had brought death and misery to countless. Her face burns a bit as she fights back a burst of anger. If it was up to _her_ ; she would see them destroyed, experiencing every last crime committed before forfeiting their lives.

Elizabeth imagines the world without those hated creatures. The goddesses, and all the clans, could finally live in peace; her mother would come home. They could finally have the time that they had never had, and Elizabeth would know what it was like to have a loving and doting mother.

Her entire life had been this _waiting_. Waiting for the queen, waiting for the war to end, waiting for the demons to stop their terror. It would serve them right to be annihilated once and for all. She should be out there, Elizabeth thinks; she wants to fight alongside her clan, to do her part in bringing down the demon race and setting Britannia free. After all, isn't that the true purpose of the goddess clan? Their light counters their darkness, their pure and righteous souls counter their terror.

Elizabeth grits her teeth, her hands now gripping her thighs tight enough to hurt. Her arms shake a bit with the force as she tries to press down the feelings of rage at the injustice of it all. When will the demons be brought to justice? When will her mother finally just do away with them, once and for all? Perhaps if Elizabeth was allowed to go to Britannia and fight, then _she_ could have had this war over long ago.

It is selfish of her mother to be away for so long, selfish to continue the fight when it is so easy to just _end_ them. With one word her mother, the most powerful being in the world, could do away with the entire revolting lot of them, Elizabeth is sure. So why does she hesitate? Doesn't she want to come home, to be a mother to her? Doesn't Elizabeth deserve that, for her years of quiet obedience? Doesn't she—

She sucks in a breath, pressing a wrist against her trembling lips. _This_ is why she is not allowed to leave the palace, and why she has implored fate not to hand her the throne before she is ready. The Supreme Deity would never have such dark thoughts. Her mother shows kindness and forgiveness and humility; her soul is pure, unlike her daughter's. The queen has told her as much.

Wrath has no place within a goddess.

"Your Highness!"

A voice breaks her thoughts, and with her heart pounding she turns to see Sariel standing in the doorway, his childlike face as serene as always. "Pardon me, princess," he says with a bow. "You have been summoned to assist the queen."

"The queen?" Quickly she is up and hurrying after the archangel, the chair toppling over behind her. She can feel her pulse racing as they walk quickly through the corridors. The faces of the goddesses she passes are grim, and Elizabeth can only imagine what is happening, and why _she_ has been called to help.

He leads her to the strategy room the queen uses to meet with her advisors. Elizabeth is confident as she walks in, but once all eyes fall upon her she falters. One sweep of her eyes around the room reveals that the Supreme Deity is not there. Her stomach drops as she turns to Sariel. "Where is Her Majesty?"

"Lady Elizabeth." A voice deep and rich calls her name, and the heavy feeling inside of her intensifies when Mael approaches. The most powerful of the Archangels, his presence is not often felt in the Celestial Realm, as he is usually by the queen's side in Britannia. To see him here, now, without her…

"My mother," Elizabeth whispers, choking on the rest of her question: _is she gone?_ A tear slides down her cheek, and she struggles to remain composed in front of the others, when all she wants is to collapse to the floor. She is not ready for this; _she is not ready to lead_.

Mael looks down at her with hard gray eyes. "Her Majesty is in Britannia. The demons have unleashed an attack on a city of humans, eating their souls and tearing them to shreds."

Despite the horror of his words, all Elizabeth can feel is relief. "The queen is alive?" she breathes, her eyes fluttering closed briefly. He continues speaking, but she can barely hear over the pounding of her heart. Chills run through her as the fear slowly dissipates. The possibility of her mother being gone, of ruling the goddesses, of being responsible for the protection of the entire realm, had been terrifying.

"Lady Elizabeth," he says again, and the princess shakes herself. "Are you ready?"

"Ready?" she echoes, her brows drawing down.

Mael nods. "The queen sent me here to ask for your help. The demons greatly outnumber those fighting on our side, and Her Majesty fears lives will be lost as she pushes them back. She has asked for you to pray."

* * *

Meliodas walks through the town as it burns. Monspeet had done an excellent job picking out this one. It was large, but not too large, big enough to attract attention and provide plenty of victims, but not important enough to bring a major retaliation. The air is choking with smoke and screams, the ground soft with a thick layer of ash. His boots do not make a sound as he strolls among the buildings.

Hot cinders fly by, and he huffs for a moment, blowing one away before it can land. Ahead, a red demon tears the roof off of a home before bending down to light the inside with a bright flame from its mouth. He looks to the right to see another stomp on a wagon, splinters flying, as it reaches to pick up the screaming horse. Its rider is still attached, crying out as his legs are crushed in the demon's fist. Below, two young girls lay motionless on the ground, their heads now covered in gore.

Impatiently Meliodas looks up at the sky. Not a single goddess has appeared, even after the destruction has gone on for over three hours. He had sent in the blue demons first, under the watchful command of Galand and Derieri. Dozens flew through the city, rounding up piles of humans and extracting souls before tearing their bodies apart. After the slaughter began, the people in the city ran to hide indoors, and the city's soldiers came out in full force. It was amusing to watch them try to fight, and even more amusing that some were wielding the magic that was inherent in Britannia. These Holy Knights, as they called themselves, were certainly dedicated.

The humans were too stubborn to surrender, and after one of the blues was actually injured severely, Meliodas ordered the next wave of attacks. First the gray demons entered the city, their armor protecting them from the soldiers' weapons and their _Dark Snow_ ability able to take out entire groups. More blue demons flew the perimeter, keeping anyone from escaping.

Yet _still_ the goddesses had not shown. Meliodas had kept his eyes on the sky, uncaring of the fighting going on in the city. The Ten Commandments had all come on this mission, and he left the detail work of who should go where to them to coordinate. He gave them strict orders not to engage themselves, however; this was a plot to draw the goddesses out and force them to use their weapon. If they took it upon themselves to fight, the battle would end too quickly.

But an hour went by, then two, and no goddesses appeared. Nothing at all out of the ordinary, in fact, and once the human soldiers were nearly gone, Meliodas allowed Estarossa to unleash a horde of red demons to rout out the civilians.

His brother is hurrying towards him now, and Meliodas grits his teeth. He gives a short bow in salute when he reaches the general and says, "The assault is nearly finished. Less than two hundred humans remain, and the red demons I created are taking care of them easily." Estarossa puffs up a bit in pride. "You'll be pleased to know—"

"I am _not_ pleased, you fucking idiot," Meliodas snaps. "We're not here to kill humans! We're here to draw out the goddesses, and not a single one has appeared."

He stares at his brother accusingly then, and Estarossa shrinks back a bit. He is now as tall as Meliodas, but his lack of experience is clear. He wonders if he had looked so ridiculously green in his own young adulthood. "Y-yes, I know that, but—"

"You have soot on your neck," he snorts, and turns away as his brother rubs an embarrassed hand on the side of his face.

Anger begins to flood him, an unusual feeling for the demon who is typically so unaffected. Quickly he turns and storms away from his brother before he can show any hatred before the Commandment of Love. It would not do to show weakness through emotions, even if his status keeps him immune from the others' decrees. It infuriates him that this did not work, and he is angered even _more_ by how much this bothers him. Meliodas will not return to the demon realm to hear his father ask why his plan failed. Meliodas does not make a mistake; he does not lose his target.

He pauses for a moment to look up again. The dawn has come and gone, the morning moving slowly in the death and flames. Staring up in thought, he debates whether to attack a castle next, or move on to the fairies. Which are more likely to raise the alarm among the goddesses?

Nearby, there is crying, and with his thoughts interrupted he turns his head to see a young woman crouched in a doorway, unaware that the roof of the building she uses as refuge is beginning to catch fire. "Help us!" she screams. "Please, someone help us!"

Her pleas are cut off as she chokes on the thick smoke that is billowing down from the top of the building, and Meliodas smirks. They had all assumed the goddesses would arrive to save the day, apparently.

Slowly he approaches the girl, his eyes hardened on her. "No one is coming," he calls to her.

The girl's eyes snap to him, wide in alarm, bright with pain. "Please! Help me!" she cries.

She reaches out an arm, and in a flash it is gone with a streak of red. Meliodas grips his sword, having appeared in his hand in an instant when summoned, and he sighs as she screams and clutches the stump that remains. "Did you think the goddesses were coming?" he calls over. "Well so did I."

The satisfaction of her terror is quickly fading, her wails now grating his nerves; but as he lifts the giant blade to take her life, there is a cool breeze that blows across his skin.

Instantly he spins, looking for the source. "They are here!" he shouts, taking off in the direction of the feeling that was as startling as it was tantalizing. It was magic, unmistakably that of a goddess. Somewhere, someone is invading their attack.

"Commandments!" They respond to his call at once, and the squad moves as they have countless other times, seamlessly falling into formation to fan out. Meliodas cuts down a red demon who had been enjoying ripping up a home from its foundation, jumping on top to survey the area from above. From the makeshift perch he can see around this section of the city, but there is nothing but the demon's massacre. He is _sure_ the feeling had come in this direction, so he pushes his senses outwards, his focus sharp and unwavering as she seeks to touch the goddess energy that had dared to caress him.

But there is nothing. No shining white wings, no flash of light, nothing to soothe the heat and stench of the flames. "Where are you?" he growls to himself, still as a statue, only his eyes moving to sweep around the area.

"Captain!" Melascula's voice comes from above. "There are no goddesses here!"

" _Find them_ ," he orders, his tone making clear there is no argument.

The demons fan out again. Slowly his hand squeezes around the hilt of his sword. Meliodas is itching to move, but knows that the Commandments will uncover the goddess that is there. His best move now is to wait for the energy to reveal itself again, so he can move in the right direction and strike.

But there is something strange about this, something he cannot put a finger on. He should be able to sense the presence without any trouble; his entire life, since childhood, created the soldier and the killer he is now. He has killed countless creatures; he has left just as many alive. Finding one is easy, being only a matter of knowing what to look for; and Meliodas knows how to find a goddess. The goddess clan draws from the same energy in Britannia as the demons. As much as they clash and deny their natures, Meliodas knows that they are connected, as hated as that connection is. And he, the most powerful demon in any realm, can sense the presence of another as powerful as he. If a goddess has the ability to hide like this, and to wield a weapon that can defeat the red and gray and blue demons, then Meliodas would know. He _should_ know.

Only once had he ever interacted with goddesses outside of battle: that day when he had visited the Celestial Realm, when his father had made a foolish attempt at diplomacy by promising him to the daughter of the Supreme Being, when he had brought the silver-haired baby a gift and stared at the vulnerable thing in her cradle.

Meliodas blinks, shaking himself. What a strange time for that memory to surface.

Then it comes, that feeling of cool air. His entire being turns toward it, but before he can strike—before he can register there is _nothing to strike_ —the demons around him still. There is still a nearly unbearable heat from the fires, the air filled with the screams of the humans. But the attack comes to an instant, sudden halt, and Meliodas' eyes open in surprise.

One by one the demons stand. Meliodas watches as they all remain unmoving, focused ahead, not paying any attention to the chaos they were just engaging in a moment ago. It's as if they are _listening_ , Meliodas decides; then, as if given a signal, they all turn and begin walking through the city.

"Stop!" he calls, his voice ringing in the air. Nearby he can hear the other Commandments shouting, and in fury he roars his brother's name. "Estarossa! _Estarossa!_ "

"Meliodas!" The younger demon is there in a moment, and Meliodas whirls on him.

"Follow them. I want to know where they go. Do what you can to take back control of them. Do not let them be destroyed."

Estarossa nods and takes off, his powers scattering wildly as he tries in vain to take back control of his creations. He watches for a few moments, and then the rest are there, standing in the familiar arc around the general, waiting for his command.

Meliodas turns and stares at them. "Explain this to me," he says quietly.

"This is what happened before," Aranak is the first to volunteer. "The demons stop responding to our commands, and then walk away from the battle."

"They will not return to their senses for hours," Calmadios confirms. "Then they have no memories of what happened, or whose orders they followed."

"But where is the _goddess_ ," bites out Meliodas. "If there is a weapon, it must be _here_."

Monspeet folds his arms, drawing his cloak around him. "We searched. There are no goddesses here."

He has half a mind to cut through every last one of them, but gives pause for a moment. "Did you not feel the presence? Before the demons turned away?"

The Commandments look at one another in confusion. "Feeling?" Meliodas looks at Galand, who is scratching his head, the look of a fool. "I didn't feel anything."

"I didn't either," Melascula offers, hovering near Galand's helmet. "Are you saying there was a goddess here, Captain?"

"Goddess my _ass_ ," Derieri grumbles at her. "There was _nothing_ here!"

The Commandments begin to murmur among one another, but Meliodas has already stopped listening. It makes no sense for them to not have felt it; as brief as it was, it was undeniable. It felt like a knife cutting through the heat and the noise; and somehow, this goddess moved undetected by him, and completely unnoticed by the others.

His eyes fall on Gowther. It is not the sorcerer who attended this party, however; instead, the cripple had sent his doll. _This_ Gowther stands calmly watching, his hands at his sides, as quiet as his master. "Gowther," Meliodas calls over, and the others quiet.

The doll steps forward. "Yes, Captain," he answers in a pleasant, but monotone voice.

"Can you hear the demons now? Can you read their thoughts?"

Gowther tilts his head to the side, listening, not unlike the other demons minutes before. "I cannot hear them, no," the doll finally responds. "But I can feel them."

"Feel them?" Meliodas frowns, confused. "What do they feel like?"

"They feel happy," Gowther replies.

 _Happy_. The idea is ridiculous, but instead of angering him further, Meliodas is intrigued. First the presence only he could feel, and now this development? The goddesses are planning something, he is sure of it. "Follow behind Estarossa," he tells Gowther. "Track their emotions and thoughts. I want a full report."

The doll nods and takes off. "The rest of you," he says, "fan and out take another look. There had to be someone here, I felt them. If they are still here, I want them found. You have six hours."

The rest take flight, and Meliodas is alone in the destruction. It is suddenly quiet, and he wonders if any of the humans are even left alive; the fires are burning out, and black smoke billows into the air, covering the sunny morning.

He walks back through town, retracing his steps. Where did that feeling come from? Where did it go? He comes back to the red demon he had slaughtered, but before he can climb on top again, he pauses. Turning his head, Meliodas spies the woman he nearly killed. She is alive, barely, her wound dripping blood, her face pale, her body wracked with shivering.

It is to be expected, but what gives him pause is the expression on her face: the woman is smiling. This can happen as well; as the soul expires, occasionally the victim will see visions or hear voices as their life slips away. Yet this woman's eyes are clear, and she stares back at him unafraid, clear of the bright feverishness he had expected.

"Can you see me?" he asks, feeling ridiculous once the question is out.

"Yes." Her breath is little more than a whisper, and Meliodas walks closer. "You saved me."

"You're going to die," replies the demon matter-of-factly. "You have minutes left, if that."

The woman's eyes close briefly, then open. "I felt… happy." His brows draw down a bit with the confession. "Did you feel it?" she asks.

"Yes." No sense in lying, he figures. "But it wasn't happiness. It was a goddess."

"A goddess… is happiness."

Her eyes begin to droop. Meliodas crouches down to watch her final moments more closely. "Take comfort if you must," he says quietly. "But the goddesses are as cruel as any other race."

"That one… was not…" Her words fade with her life, and Meliodas sees her body go slack with her final breath. He only feels emptiness as his eyes trail over her broken form. Death does not interest him any longer; life is barely enough of an entertainment any more. Yet this human, this _no one_ , felt a presence his own Commandments could not.

The demon smiles. This is a mystery he will enjoy solving.


	4. Chapter Three: Upturned Ink

**A/N:** I am so sorry this is late! I had a lot going on at work the past two days and haven't had a minute to myself until tonight. Please forgive my tardiness, and please enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Upturned Ink**

 _Life has dark secrets; and the hearts are few  
That treasure not some sorrow from the world_ _—_ _  
A sorrow silent, gloomy, and unknown,  
Yet colouring the future from the past.  
We see the eye subdued, the practised smile,  
The word well weighed before it pass the lip,  
And know not of the misery within:  
Yet there it works incessantly and fears_

The time to come; for time is terrible,  
Avenging, and betraying.

— _Letitia Elizabeth Landon_

Elizabeth sits on her bed, shaking. Using her powers is something that still leaves her weak and trembling. With a shudder she smoothes back her hair, clinging to her damp brow and neck. She presses her hands into her lap, taking one deep breath after another, waiting for the burning in her throat and the pounding in her ears to fade away.

She is pleased to do it, beyond _thrilled_ to have been able to help her mother in some small way. The queen had been risking her life to drive back the destruction of the demons. Elizabeth had imagined herself the evil they had sewn as Mael had described it to her. An entire city on fire, men and women and children broken and torn apart, images of the people fleeing while the brave knights had fought the demon horde. Mael had told her that the goddesses were on their way, and she needed to pray to help her mother reach them in time.

So the princess had done what she had been taught to do, since she was young. Elizabeth had knelt on the ground, her hands pressed together and against her chest, and prayed. She prayed for her mother's safety and for the lives of the brave goddesses who accompanied her to fight. She prayed that the humans would find comfort in their arrival and withstand the horrors that had been inflicted. But most of all, she prayed that the demons would leave.

She remembers easily the words that were trained within her over the years, first by the queen, then by the archangels who occasionally served as her tutors. _Goddesses are light. Goddesses are grace._ Focus on the enemy. Will them back. _Leave. Leave and go home. Enough fighting. Enough death._

And she does as commanded, imagining the waves of energy wafting outwards as she would pray so earnestly.

When she was so depleted she was nearly falling over with fatigue, Mael finally told her to stop. Elizabeth sank down, her head bowed and her shoulders rising and falling with her labored breathing. The cold stone floor had felt good against her feverish skin, soothing the cramping in her back and arms and legs from staying in one position for so long. Her fingers had lost some feeling and her sight was blurry, and Elizabeth only managed a sigh through her dry lips when he told her they had won.

Now Elizabeth closes her eyes and breathes deeply in relief. The demons had been slowed by her prayers, they had told her; she had bought the goddesses enough time for the Supreme Deity to arrive. The queen had fought not just any demons, they had told her: it was the _Ten_ _Commandments_ that had been there.

Elizabeth smiles to herself, imagining how it must have looked. Her mother did not wield a weapon as some of the others did. Her magic was too powerful to need such a thing. The city that had at once been overrun by the red and gray and blue creatures of destruction was soon delivered by her mother sending her light out to douse the purgatory fire and send the creatures to their doom. Although Elizabeth had never seen her mother in action before, she had heard many stories, and it is easy enough to picture how the dark ones must have trembled, how their eyes would have widened as they realized their fate was at hand.

Her breath catches. With shaky hands she removes her gloves, looking at the smooth porcelain skin. She slides her fingers along the back of one hand, then turning it to trace the lines on her palm. Elizabeth's hands had never been covered in blood, they way fighters' must be. The way hands look after fighting to save the other, weaker clans. She has never had the pleasure of feeling the heat of her light explode from beneath her skin, the satisfaction of watching the enemy howl as they are filled with the cleansing magic of the goddesses. Light can hurt just as much as heal, she knows this from her years of tutoring.

Yet she can only stand by and give aid, never go out and bring the justice she wants so desperately for those who are foolish enough to stand against them. This is Elizabeth's greatest shame: her mother has forbidden her to go to battle for Britannia.

If Elizabeth cannot fight, she cannot be the savior she wishes to be. Her role is to sit in the palace and be obedient, and to pray when she is called upon. It is all she is, and all she can ever hope to be.

But if she _could_ _—_ if they would let her out of the palace, if the queen would consent to let her go to Britannia _—_ then she would face them. Elizabeth knows she would be brave enough. Her years as a princess have been spent studying, learning their history and their culture, memorizing philosophy and languages and politics to aid her for the day when she will assume the throne. Perhaps, if she had the chance, the war would be over and her mother's burden would end. The queen is fighting because she cannot.

The princess sighs, settling back a bit. Her eyes fan over the room, all of her things that are not _hers_ , but serve as a constant reminder of who she is and who she must be. The gifts from her mother and the relics of their clan, the symbols of their magic, the remnants of her past. Elizabeth feels sick for her ungratefulness. People are dying in Britannia, and all she can think of is more death, simply to satisfy her own desires.

The queen does not have such base ideas, she is sure. The queen only knows peace and forgiveness and sacrifice. The queen does not bestow death upon others.

Elizabeth can feel her heart beginning to pick up its pace, and she shuts her eyes tightly. It is at a time like this when she misses her mother the most; who else would understand the pain and loneliness and crushing responsibility of her royal position better than the Supreme Deity? But her mother is gone, _fighting again_ , and Elizabeth bites the inside of her cheek to stop the wave of anger.

Why must she sacrifice so much? Why must the goddesses give all they have, when all the demons do is take and take? Her stomach turns with anguish, the burning in her throat and the pounding in her head increasing when her eyes settle on an object that is out-of-place in the room.

On the very top of the built-in shelves that cover one wall sits a small silver box. Quickly Elizabeth stands, summoning her wings to aid in flying up high enough to snatch it away. Once settled back on the ground she climbs into the center of her bed, smiling as she settles the precious item on her lap.

 _What_ it is and _where_ it came from she cannot say; it is something that has always just been there, sitting on that shelf. She had asked her tutors and her guards who had put it there but no one could answer. Then, when she asked Mael he had admonished her to never open it, and Elizabeth always obeyed. But following his instruction only intensified her curiosity regarding the box.

Mael had said nothing about _staring at_ or _thinking about_ the box, so at times like this when Elizabeth's mind would move too fast, her thoughts too loud, she would brush her fingers along the sparkling wood and wonder. Even now the thrill of what it could contain makes her smile, remembering how fun it was to imagine so many possibilities. Yet it is also soothing, bringing a smile to her face. There is a connection to this box that she cannot explain. Her breathing and her pulse settle as she traces the outline with her finger.

There is a knock in the door, and quickly Elizabeth replaces her gloves. "Yes?" she calls, wincing at the light strain in her voice.

"Your Highness," says Ludoshel as he enters. "Your mother is here and wishes to see you."

"My mother?!" Instantly she is up and running, not caring how she looks or how her cheeks are flushed or how a princess should never _ever_ run through the halls.

Elizabeth is nearly stumbling over her own feet when she finally reaches the throne room. With panting breaths she pulls to a stop before she loses all decorum and rushes at the queen like a wild thing. She gives a small sound of relief and happiness to see that it is true: her mother is sitting in her throne, towering above the goddesses that scurry around her giving reports and taking commands and offering advice. All eyes are attuned to the overwhelming presence of the queen in their midst, and all Elizabeth can do for several minutes is simply watch.

She sits on her throne, back arched, hands gripping the arms of the carved marble of the chair. Her white robes flow around her body and cascade on the floor, making is seem as though she rests on a cloud. The silver hair that is a shade lighter than Elizabeth's own flows in loose curls around her shoulders under the crown that is covered in shining white diamonds.

Tears well up inside Elizabeth to see the familiar beauty of her mother's face and the clear blue eyes that stare intently at the advisor now speaking. The excitement of seeing her after so many months erases the loneliness and anger from earlier. She blinks away the drops forming on her eyelashes, squeezing her trembling hands into fists at her sides as she thinks over and over: _home, home, home, home_.

It is a familiar scene, watching her mother on the throne; it is one she has known since childhood. The queen listens intently, her words concise and just as intense. No one questions her authority, and it does not take long for all of the advisors to deliver their briefs and step back with her commands. Elizabeth's heart pounds, excitement coursing through her at the familiar rituals. They are blessed to stand in her presence, and it is thrilling to know that the queen has returned to her rightful place, safe and alive.

That is, until the queen's eyes land on _her_. Elizabeth jumps under her stare, regretting her clothes and the jewels she chose and wondering if her hair was as mussed as she feared. She feels the heavy purposefulness of her gaze as the deity looks her over. Her eyes are keen and unforgiving, leaving Elizabeth feeling pinned to that very spot in the room, her excitement turning sour in her veins. The queen has returned, and so has her piercing scrutiny.

But then, the eyes soften, a smile forming very small over the queen's lips. "Elizabeth!" she calls.

The tears spill at hearing her mother say her name. But somehow Elizabeth remembers her manners, and after stepping forward into the parting crowd, the princess sinks into a low curtsey. "Your Grace," she breathes, trying to keep her voice and her soul steady. "I am blessed to be in your presence."

"Look at my lovely daughter! Is she not the most beautiful girl you have ever seen?"

The others murmur to one another their agreement that yes, indeed, the princess is lovely and graceful and a glittering jewel in the queen's crown. Their praise of her makes Elizabeth blush, not daring to lift her watery eyes up to look her mother in the face.

The voices fade away into a thick silence, and for a moment Elizabeth is frightened that she has done something wrong. But then, incredibly, there is a hand on her shoulder, and as the princess is guided to stand, she realizes in shock the queen is standing before her, gently caressing her arm.

When was the last time her mother spoke to her so kindly, took her hand, used a gentle touch? As if in a dream Elizabeth lifts her eyes to see her mother smiling down at her. "Come, my dear," the queen hums.

Together they walk towards the large archway that leads out onto a balcony. The queen seems to float on air, her long dress flowing behind her, the heavy curls that frame her face lifting slightly in the breeze. For what must be the thousandth time Elizabeth marvels at how effortless her mother is. It fills her with deep pride, and even a bit of envy. _That_ is a sin that must never be revealed, so quickly Elizabeth pushes it deep inside.

"The Celestial Realm is a dream, isn't it?" the queen asks. She rests one strong hand against the railing of the balcony. Her body faces Elizabeth, but her face is turned to take in the sights far below them. "You can nearly see all of Britannia from here."

"Yes, mother," Elizabeth says with a bit of a blush. Oh, there are so many things she wishes to say in this moment! She has so many questions to ask and fears to share and stories to tell that for a split second Elizabeth considers flinging her arms around the queen and burying her face into the shimmering hair.

But such a thing is impossible, unthinkable. Elizabeth stands as she has been taught, hands clasped and eyes forward.

"I understand that you prayed yesterday," the queen says.

Eagerly Elizabeth nods. "It was an honor to be of some help," she replies. "I prayed very hard for the demons to hold back, just as you taught me."

She sneaks a glance towards her mother, who is looking out still over Britannia. "It was a good battle, and hard won. All Ten Commandments were there. Their power is very great, and the evil they brought even greater. But I was able to send them all back. I turned them back and saved the city."

Elizabeth's eyes shimmer a bit. Unable to stop herself, she reaches out and takes the queen's hand, pressing a kiss as she exclaims, "Your Majesty is remarkable!"

To her delight, the goddess pulls her hand away to caress Elizabeth's hair, tucking it affectionately behind her ear. The princess beams at her, her heart full.

"Elizabeth," the queen says, "you have grown into a beautiful young woman. When I am gone, you will need to assume the role of queen and lead not only our own people, but all of Britannia."

"I know," Elizabeth whispers. "But I'm afraid, mother."

The queen nods. "Few can do what I can so easily. You should be afraid."

The blood seems to drain right out from her face, and Elizabeth shivers. She thinks of the earlier violence she had imagined, feeling ashamed. Not knowing what to say, she hangs her head, but the queen lifts her chin with a long finger so her eyes meet her own. "That's why I have taken care of you, and your future."

"My… future?"

The goddess smiles. "Yes, my dear. But first you must do something for me. This war has been going on long enough. It will last another endless age if we don't do something about it."

Elizabeth frowns. "The demons are fierce, but surely we can win against them. Surely with _your_ powers _—_ "

"Unfortunately," the queen interrupts, "that will be impossible. Even though we are greater in strength, power, and resolve, the demons can reproduce en masse. The sheer size of their armies are enough to keep this conflict going."

Never has Elizabeth heard her mother speak this way, to admit _any_ weakness. She had always assumed that good would win in the end. "Is there no hope?" she whispers fearfully. "Then what do we do?"

The queen strokes her bangs back, her fingers brushing the goddess' face gently. "It's what _you_ must do, my dear. You must find out their secrets. If we can raise an army of our own clansmen as easily as they, then we can overtake them once and for all."

Elizabeth's eyes widen as she gasps. "Me? But… but how could I… I don't know anything about them!"

"Elizabeth," the queen says, her tone going from soft to serious, snapping her from the whirlwind of confusion. "Many years ago, you were promised in marriage to the eldest son of the Demon King. Now we will use that to our own advantage."

"I was… what?" The goddess blinks rapidly, trying to clear her vision. It's _too much_ to even consider, and the blood is pounding in her head, the sudden rush of adrenaline at the idea making her sick. Marry one of the demons? The king's own son? That would make her queen of that vile race, a part of the clan that has caused such agony and destruction.

She looks at her mother, in complete shock, but the queen only smiles. "Now, you have the opportunity to learn all you can about them, and discover their well-guarded secrets. Then we can finally take down their clan once and for all."

"Marry?" Bile rises in Elizabeth's throat, her mind full and empty at once. The room begins to tilt.

The queen strokes her cheek, once more catching her attention. "It was a way to barter peace for a while, but obviously that did not last long. I have kept the demons from claiming you as long as I can, but they have become quite insistent."

Panic grips Elizabeth at the idea. "But _—_ but marry one? Marry the next king? Mother, I can't do that! I can't!" The words fall out in a rush, before the princess can stop them. No one says no to the queen. The queen cannot be refused. And yet, Elizabeth repeats again, "I can't! I won't!"

The queen's hand, which had been so soft against her cheek, clenches into her hair. The smile remains on her mother's face even as her fingers dig into her scalp painfully. "You must do this, Elizabeth. There is no other way." Elizabeth can feel her hair being tugged sharply, and with a strangled gasp she tilts her head back to ease the pressure. "Their power is growing, and I cannot do this alone. You must obey me and do what you can to find out what they know. Do you understand?"

Her entire body is shaking out of revulsion of her task. Her mother peers at her now, her eyes cold despite the smile still there. She can feel the air in her lungs squeezing as she tries to make sense of any of this. Yet the hand in her hair is tightening, and at once she is very, truly afraid. For the first time, there is a fear inside of her of the queen's power, one that she had never experienced before. Elizabeth can feel the power that exists just beneath her fingertips, her own setting off alarms inside of her mind to _fight_ and _survive_. Never had she imagined the queen to turn against her; but if this was kept from her, if this fate is hers now, then anything is possible.

Elizabeth knows she has no choice. She cannot refuse; denying the queen is impossible. So the princess nods, and at once the queen releases her hold.

"I will have their secrets, and once I do, then I can destroy them all. Including this prince you must marry." Her mother's voice has once more become pleasant, but this time as she strokes her daughter's hair, Elizabeth is frozen. "So it's only for a little while. You do trust me, don't you, my dearest?"

Elizabeth swallows thickly, her throat dry. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"What a dutiful daughter I have. One day you will be queen, and you will understand the sacrifices I make for you. It hurts my heart to see you given away." The goddess sighs and strokes Elizabeth's cheek, her nail scraping lightly along the cheekbone. A shiver of revulsion wracks through Elizabeth's body, and she bites her lip to keep from screaming. "Our lives are lived for others, never forget that. As queen I must give the most, and that includes my only daughter. My suffering will be great, but I must endure, for Britannia."

She gives her daughter a kiss on the forehead. Elizabeth chokes back a little sob, still stunned. All she had wanted all this time was her mother's touch; now her presence is a curse.

The soft caress of her mother's lips feel like lava, golden light that eases into her tense brow. The queen then turns to leave, but Elizabeth screws her courage and says, "When, mother?"

The goddess pauses. Elizabeth has never dared to call after her before, and the tension is heavy for a moment. But then the queen looks over her shoulder. "Soon," she replies before sweeping back inside, gone once more in a cloud of advisors and servants around her.

A million questions cycle through Elizabeth's mind, but one is the loudest: _why was I never told_?

Then: _Is this why I am here? Is this what I was born to do?_

* * *

The mystery is beginning to drive Meliodas mad, a situation which is as rare and remarkable as it is infuriating. He has cared about so little in the past two centuries that to even feel _agitation_ is foreign and uncomfortable under his skin. Hours he spends turning the events of the attack in his mind, thinking and rethinking what it all could mean. There is no doubt in his mind that he had _felt_ the presence of the goddess who dared to take control of his demon army. The human female had confirmed its existence for him. If he was not so distracted by solving this puzzle he may have been impressed by the daring and skill it must have taken to accomplish this feat.

The demon prince is more bothered by the fact that the goddess clan has managed to _keep_ the weapon from him than by the fact that it _exists_.

Two weeks have gone by with no sign of the goddess clan's return. A skirmish here or there, a killing on each side, but no more talk of weapons or demons leaving their ranks. Meliodas concludes that the weapon is only used when a large number of human lives are at stake, and so begins watching the human settlements, wanting to stage another attack. But one reason or another keeps a plan to draw out the mysterious weapon from taking shape, and now with days and days having passed without an answer, the demon is feeling another long forgotten emotion: wrath.

His rooms are now filled with maps and papers, notes he has made on the movements of the armies, calculations about the size of the various clans. This is what he had been raised and trained to do, and it eats at Meliodas to be here, working for the king after all. The old lessons from Chandler come back as he easily fits back into his role as general and leader, and he despises it. None of it brings him any pleasure, but at least he can say it is a distraction.

But it is too easy, all of it. The others listen to him without question, his brothers are nearly always not far behind. Even the king, the only one who does not simply fall in line, has left him be to accomplish his task. It's all child's play, in the end, and he cares about none of it, including the woman he is currently fucking on top of his desk.

She is naked and squirming and moaning and it grates his nerves, but he continues the punishing thrust of his hips. Sex bores him as much as anything else. There is no thrill in finding a woman or man to take when they offer themselves so willingly. His brothers are both opposites: one disdains the act as vulgar and idiotic, while the other is insatiable for the pleasures of love. For him, it is as natural as breathing, as necessary as bathing, and as interesting as either. There are other things Meliodas does to occupy his time as he waits for more reports to come in: hunting, mostly. It is one of the few things that he can enjoy doing without becoming bored. Food, drink, entertainment, sex, killing, sleep: it is all a jumble of tasks that must be completed and nothing more.

"Come on!" she gasps out, and the sound makes his teeth ache. He places a hand on her mouth to silence her as the other presses on the table next to her hip. She likes this, based on the strangled cry from beneath his palm. _Good_ , he thinks; maybe this will be over sooner rather than later. His eyes drag down her naked form, the toned muscles of her thighs, the tight stomach contracting and straining with the way their bodies slap together. Her darkness must be pulled inside to reveal so much of her, and he knows he _should_ try to find some pleasure in this. But how can he, so distracted?

A sharp pain in his forearm pulls at his attention and he buries himself inside of her before looking down. Her nails are sharp and leave tracks of blood in his skin, and for a moment he smiles. Slowly he rocks his hips in a circle, squeezing the hand still clamped around her mouth. She thrashes and digs into his skin, her breath hot as she chokes behind his hand, her stomach muscles straining as she tries to move her hips. But the slow gyration is driving her insane, so he tries to draw out the tease. _This_ is amusing for the moment.

But Meliodas eventually moves too fast, and hits something, because she is arching off the desk with a wild scream and her eyes growing impossibly wide. He feels the unmistakable pulsing around his length, and in his annoyance he keeps the hand on her mouth while the other covers her eyes.

He does not care anymore, just wanting to find his own end now so this can be _finished_. The orgasm will clear his head and drain his body of the nervous energy that was plaguing him that day, and he can finally go back to his maps and drawings to find a new angle.

"Shut up," he growls, tilting forward a bit to drill even deeper. Her arms go out, trying to find something to grip _—_ holding onto _him_ is a good way to lose an arm _—_ and when she bangs on the wood of the desk it upturns an ink well. Meliodas turns his head away from the vicious depravity beneath him and watches the ink as it streams across the grain.

There are papers underneath her, some with his drawings of the town they had decimated, some sketched out positionings of battle plans, lists and lists of names and books and spells, ideas and notes and observations. When she had arrived for some reason Melidoas couldn't care to remember, he decided to take her then, needing an outlet for his aggravation. She was happy to comply, as they always are. Fucking her on top of the very ideas that were causing him so much grief seemed like a fitting irony.

His hips come to a stuttered stop as he watches the black ink sliding, leaving a thin trail across the table. It reaches one of his papers, turning sharply to slip along the edge of a drawing that is sticking out from under her hip. The hand covering her mouth moves, leaving her gasping, but Meliodas ignores her to roughly turn her thigh so he can watch the path. She heaves a laugh and says, "Again?"

"Shut _up_." Meliodas pulls out of her so he can roll her even farther. The picture that the ink is now outlining is of the human who felt the presence of the goddess just as he had. He had sketched it out days ago, going back every so often to add another detail as he remembered them. It is important that _she_ had felt it, and he knew it is a clue to solving this mystery. As the ink bleeds into the paper and slides across the parchment, it reminds Meliodas of how the power of the weapon had seemed to come on the wind. He remembers the cool breeze that had somehow brushed on his skin in the middle of the inferno.

There is a rap at the door suddenly, and a call of his name. But the ink is fascinating to him, and when it approaches the human's face, he is tempted to snatch up the parchment to save the drawing from being ruined. Another knock sounds, followed by the door opening; then a hand wraps around his swollen and rigid member, which he had been successfully ignoring.

In a flash the offending hand is removed, the owner now bent over the edge of the desk, her arm twisted behind her. From the corner of his eye he can see her spreading her legs, waiting; but that no longer interests him, no matter what his pulsing and weeping body wants. Meliodas can only stare at the paper that is turning black as if it is on fire and being covered in soot. It is giving him an idea, if only everyone would be _quiet_.

"Get out of here Estarossa, can't you see that we're busy?" her voice snaps.

"Is that Derieri the Pure?" Estarossa teases back.

The ink does something remarkable: it moves in a circle, forming a rounded outline around the human. There must be some explanation for the direction it flows, whether the change in humidity with the door opening or the shuffling of the papers as his partner had turned, but it is compelling to watch. It is as if the ink is forming a barrier around the human, and makes him wonder: why then, why them? Why not any of the other cursed races of Britannia?

Maybe it isn't the goddesses after all?

"Pure my _ass_ ," laughs Derieri. "Go fuck off."

"I'll fuck yours if you hold still."

"Like you would even know _—_ "

Meliodas looks up at the squabbling demons. "Estarossa," he says sharply, and both turn and look at him. "What is the status on the demon army for the next assault?"

"That's what I came to tell you," his brother responds, folding his arms. "The demons are ready, but the town selected has been fortified. We may need more if _—_ "

"I don't give a shit about that," he interrupts. "We have a new target. I want the most destructive ones on standby. I'm going to get answers, and if I don't like what I hear, then I'm levelling their little settlement to the ground."

Both demons are now standing and watching him, at full attention. Meliodas spies the darkness slithering along Derieri's body to cover herself. "Where are we going?" she asks.

"Belialuin," he replies.


	5. Chapter Four: Punishment and Lies

**Chapter Four: Punishment and Lies**

 _Fear is like a fire that you can't tame  
because trying to put it out only makes it grow  
stronger and although people tell you  
to face your fears, once it sets in,  
spreading faster, is there really a way  
to get away from something once it has  
complete control over you?_

 _Yet, no matter how big the lie may be,  
it holds the power to make something  
good slowly turn into something bad;  
where the lie not only deceives  
everyone else but also  
ourselves in the end._

— _simpy tylla_

The smell of smoke and sulfur reaches Meliodas well before he spies the rolling black smoke. His eyes narrow once Belialuin is within sight, or at least, what is _left_ of Belialuin.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath.

He pulls up a bit, adjusting the black wings to slow down on the approach. The entire settlement is on fire, and not just any ordinary fire: the heat and the smell and the sound that is more scream than roar tells him this is Purgatory fire. Why would the demons be attacking a place that is outside of the war? This makes no sense, and for a moment he regrets not accepting the briefings that he had been offered since his return.

What's more, there are lightning strikes that come in an unpredictable but steady pattern from above. The fires of Purgatory come from below the earth, but bolts of lightning? That means only one thing.

"Your Grace," a voice calls behind him, but Meliodas does not bother to turn around, instead coming to a stop midair before landing on the top of a little hill. He feels the others behind him do the same, but his energy he sends forward, his chin dropping as he concentrates on the destruction up ahead. He can clearly read the demon and goddess power now that he is focused, but it leaves him more confused than unsettled.

Glancing over his shoulder, he calls, "Chandler. Why is Belialuin being destroyed?"

There is a shuffling in the corner of his eye before his old teacher takes a bow. "I cannot say, Your Grade," he murmurs. "I had not heard this order; but I am not privy to every command that your father gives in his wisdom. For as it has been said, _do not trust the man who does not trust his king._ "

Meliodas grits his teeth in aggravation. Chandler's quotes had always been a thorn in his side, and the familiar urge to tell him to shut up bubbles up from childhood. He turns fully now to look at the rest of the group: Estarossa, Derieri, Monspeet, and Galand. The rest of the Commandments are either out on other missions, or had been left standing by with the demon army.

His plan had been to enter the city with just these few, and interrogate the leader with Galand standing nearby. Now those plans look completely ruined, and annoyance itches under his skin. "Do the rest of you know anything?"

Estarossa is, of course, the first to speak. "There was no order through the official channels," he answers grimly. "Allow me to go ahead and find out the cause of this."

"Good idea," agrees Galand. "We'll find the one who stole our Purgatory fire and set it on the city we wanted to destroy. Bastards stole the idea right out from under us."

"No," Meliodas warns. "Are you both stupid? Whether or not this is from the king, the one who can harness demon _and_ goddess magic will be more powerful than the two of _you_."

"A traitor will need to be dealt with swiftly and without hesitation," says Chandler. Meliodas looks at his old tutor, whose eyes are fixed straight ahead. "The poets say, _the strength of a kingdom lies in its loyalty_. "

A dramatic sigh comes from Derieri. "Shove your poets in your ass."

"One thing is clear," says Monspeet, stopping the argument before it begins, "Whoever is doing this is either a special agent for the king, or acting without his approval."

"Special agent, hm?" Meliodas' lip curls up a bit at the idea, an idea sparking immediately. "Let's go."

Together they move, back into the sky, and Meliodas' eyes are sharp as they seek out his target in the choking air. The atmosphere has been replaced with a thick fog filled with poison gas, to rob the lungs of air and pierce the eyes. The temperature is nearly unbearably hot from the fire, and he imagines if there are any people left alive in Belialuin, they are suffering a horrendous fate. It is a punishment befitting the king's imagination, and the demon cannot help but chuckle to himself. His father has never been subtle.

Outright disobedience is punished, but why this place? All of the clans leave Belialuin alone, as it is a place for science and scholarship, great magic and magical items coming from the people there who have been left alone to their craft for centuries. The men and women of Belialuin care nothing for the war, and so had stayed out of it, only supplying the world with knowledge.

Through the haze he spots the person he had known would be at the helm of this destruction. He lands and walks forward, head tilted down and a smile on his face as he approaches from the back. "Look who it is!" he exclaims. "What a surprise! To think I'd find my little brother here, of all places."

He snorts to see his brother's shoulders stiffen for a moment. Meliodas can practically hear him grind his jaw before turning to look over his shoulder, arms crossed in front of him, a scowl on his face. "What are _you_ doing here?" Zeldris hisses.

"Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?" The teasing in his voice is still laced with a threat as the two regard each other. Behind him, Meliodas feels the others in their own approach, and Zeldris' eyes flicker up to watch them over his shoulder. "It's been years, Zeldris. You've certainly grown up quite a bit."

Meliodas eyes his stature with a laugh, but Zeldris is not amused. "Speak for yourself," he mutters, earning another laugh from Meliodas.

"I have to say, Zeldris, this is impressive work." Meliodas puts his hands on his hips and looks around, noticing the way Zeldris' moves a bit towards the hilt of his sword. "I would have never figured _you_ to be a traitor."

"You idiot," Zeldris growls. "I am here on the king's orders."

Meliodas does not answer, instead walking a short distance away. They are standing on rise that overlooks the city below, a fine vantage point for the general to observe the havoc. Interestingly, he notices that there are no demon soldiers attacking the city. It is simply on fire, the lightning strikes causing damage to buildings, the air below even more choking than what he had experienced while flying. The people down there are clearly suffering. It would have been much more efficient to send in red and gray demons to wipe them out.

"What is the king's plan?" Meliodas calls over to Zeldris, who is now speaking quietly to Estarossa. The other three Commandments have also moved to the edge to take their own looks, but Chandler stands observing and waiting for command.

Zeldris breaks off the conversation and looks over, bored. "The king sentenced these people to death," he replies. "I am the king's executioner."

"This is not an execution," retorts Meliodas. "This is a punishment."

Zeldris does not respond, so he turns and glares at his sullen younger brother. "I want an explanation," Meliodas demands. "Don't make me say it again."

"I don't answer to _you_ ," replies the demon slowly and deliberately.

In an instant his sword is in his hand, and Meliodas grits his teeth in frustration. "So this is how you want to do this?" he growls. His power is surging in his veins, causing the demon to wrestle with himself. He can tell that Zeldris' power is far greater than before, but his own still outmatches him, not to mention his experience and training.

Zeldris draws his own sword, his face formed into a deep scowl. Meliodas feels a smile creep over his face. Cutting his brother down for daring to speak to him sounds like an excellent idea.

"Zeldris!" calls Chandler behind them, "stand down!"

But Meliodas puts out a hand to stop any interference. "Perhaps you don't remember what happens to those who defy me," he says slowly, coldly. This will be perfect; his frustration over Belialuin in ruins can be turned towards Zeldris, allowing him to get rid of this uncomfortable hatred that itches beneath his skin. If he has any luck, he will cut him down enough to trigger Estarossa's Commandment; but either way, his youngest brother will not leave this fight.

"It seems as though time has messed with your own memory," Zeldris replies. "You forget I am not a child anymore."

For a moment Meliodas is surprised; it has been a long time since he headed out from the demon realm, and the brother he remembers was determined but weak, years of training ahead of him before he could hope to challenge him. It seems as though Zeldris has used those years wisely, but even with the elevated power level and confidence beyond his age, Meliodas does not fear him.

Even so, in the back of his mind, something tugs. Not a sense of familial connection, or even that of loyalty to king and clan. Instead, he knows that killing Zeldris will bring him nothing but a headache to deal with. Kill him, or allow him to live? It's a toss either way: he will have the satisfaction of revenge, but then must deal with the king's wrath, and possibly have to seize the throne. And _that_ is a task Meliodas does not want to deal with now, perhaps ever.

The two demons glare at one another. Zeldris' hand curls slightly against the handle of his sword, and Meliodas knows he has only half a moment more to decide. He growls to himself as he poises to strike, still unsure. The uncertainty is unnerving, and the unfamiliarity of it feeds into the anger welling up inside him at his brother and the goddesses and the whole lot of them.

Both demons move, but before a blow can land there is a power than forces them back, the surprise of such a thing more than anything causing Meliodas to hesitate.

"Zeldris!" It is Chandler there between them, his eyes and teeth flashing as he raises his staff. "How _dare_ you go against the future king!"

Zeldris' eyes narrow. "He's not king yet."

"Stay out of this," Meliodas orders his former master. "I can handle my own matters."

"I must fight on your behalf!" Chandler insists without turning around. "For has it not been written, _to ignore a slight to the king is to insult the king yourself_."

"I'm _not_ the _king_ ," he snaps, his voice dark and heavy and calling the attention of them all. He realizes his power is rolling from his body, his chest and arms now bare as the darkness coils towards all of the demons watching him in trepidation. Quickly he yanks it back, turning to the side and taking a deep breath. He may not be the king, but Meliodas must allow them to think he could not be.

Once his power settles back inside of his body, still sharp and snapping at his nerves, Meliodas slowly raises his chin. "Do not mistake me, Zeldris," he says. "Whatever game our father is playing is not in my interest. Carry on with your punishment or execution or whatever you want to call this. But get in my way again and you will not have the chance to live long enough to regret it."

He expects Zeldris to stand down, and is actually taken aback when Zeldris laughs. "You have gone soft," he smirks. "Letting me go without at least chopping off my head? Your years away have made you forget yourself."

Meliodas grits his teeth, hating that he has been baited, but the challenge must be taken now that it is extended. Yet once more they are interrupted when a new force comes into vision. One that sets his instincts on fire and causes his muscles to burn. _Goddesses._

"What a shame to see brothers quarrel," says a new voice, smooth as satin.

Sure enough a goddess approaches: but not just any goddess, an _archangel_. Meliodas glares at him, allowing his power to pulse in warning at the creature. "This is your brother, isn't it, Zeldris?" the goddesses says, eyeing him in return. "The one you call Meliodas?"

Meliodas senses the other demons falling into rank behind him. An archangel's power is just as deadly as those of the Commandments, but _this_ one is more powerful than the others he has met. "So you are in league with them," Estarossa growls.

"No," Meliodas says. He remembers the other power he had sensed on his approach, how lightning had struck from the sky. "They are a part of this." He looks at Zeldris, the one demon who has not taken a fighting stance. "Aren't they?"

There is a twinge of satisfaction to see Zeldris press his lips together. Undoubtedly the king had commanded him not to give away the details. Luckily, the archangel says, "I am here as a representative for my queen. Just as he is here for you demons."

A moment passes, and then Fraudrin says, "He speaks the truth."

Meliodas gives a signal, and the others ease up a bit. "I see. Then I won't kill you this time."

The archangel smiles, but it is without any warmth. "I'm very grateful." He tilts his head, his eyes dragging up and down Meliodas. "So you are the one who will become the next demon king."

"Who wants to know?" he demands.

The goddess does not answer, but Estarossa says beside him, "That is Mael, the head of the archangels, the queen's right hand."

No wonder his power drew out such a reaction. For a moment he considers slaying the goddess, to see if he can, and to see what would happen.

Mael peers at him curiously. "Are you thinking of striking me down? I must warn you, it won't be as easy as it looks."

"Try it," threatens Estarossa.

The archangel's eyes flicker over. "More brothers? You demons are a productive lot. Some would say you are nothing more than a virus that has spread on the world."

The others laugh behind them. "This one is funny!" Fraudrin proclaims.

"Captain, should we viruses infect this thing?" jokes Derieri.

Mael returns his gaze to Meliodas, and the two stare at one another. Meliodas can feel the others behind him, itching to begin the fight, but he himself feels calm, which is welcome after the heated anger of before. It annoys him how easily Zeldris managed to get under his skin, but seeing the lazy way the goddess has baited the others has tempered that somewhat. Perhaps they are nothing more than a virus, he supposes, as he considers the heat and the flame of the city on fire just steps away. But if they are a sickness on the world, the goddesses are simply a different strain.

"How easy you're all riled up," he finally says. "You should know by now every word a goddess speaks is a lie."

Mael chuckles. "And yet here I stand, before your Truth, and live." He stretches out his arms as if to showcase his continued existence before stepping forward. Meliodas knows it is a tactic to try to intimidate him, forcing him to look upwards to meet the eyes of the taller being. Mael leans in to speak to him alone. "I may have riled them up," he murmurs, "but you would find the goddesses do even better with persuasion."

His jaw clenches and his eyes widen a bit, but Estarossa is there to push the archangel back. An argument ensues between them, and he hears Estarossa call on his sword, but Meliodas cannot focus on that now. Mael's words ring in his mind, and he _knows_ now that the goddesses are behind the demon army turning. Somehow, they have infiltrated their soldiers. He knew he had felt their presence in the attack. _He knew it_.

"Let's go," he calls, coming back to the present.

Mael has a ball of light poised at Estarossa, who stands ready to defend himself. "Let me kill this one first," calls Estarossa.

Meliodas laughs. "The next time you see him, you have my full endorsement to reach inside his chest and rip out his heart." He grins at the archangel, who glares back, before his wings go out and he takes flight again.

* * *

By the time Elizabeth reaches her room, she can barely see through her tears. The queen's words had been so final that she had stood there, frozen in shock, the world nearly crashing down around her.

 _Soon_. That word filled her with such emotion that once the queen was out of her line of vision Elizabeth had taken off, practically flying back to her own chambers to collapse on the floor. She is reduced to nothing but sobs as the word echoes through her mind. _Soon. Soon._

But how soon? And why? _Why?_ Elizabeth wants to scream it until the windows shatter, yell and shout into the world the hated words. _Why?_

Why her? Why now? The goddess looks down through the tears to see her hands shaking. She pulls off her gloves to look at the porcelain skin, noticing how her fingers tremble. "I am to become one of them?" she whispers.

Her stomach rolls with the thought. "I am obedient," she stutters, still looking at her hands, as if the answer is written on her skin. "I pray for the queen. I obey her. _I obey_." The words are biting now, and Elizabeth's fingers curl into fists. "How can she do this? How can she betray me? How can she give me away to those—"

Elizabeth falls forward, her forehead pressing to the ground. Sobs shatter through her slender frame, the princess unable to do anything but curl into a ball and wail. On and on it goes as she mourns for her future. Her heart feels as though it is in pieces, her head pulsing as she thinks _I can't I can't I can't_ until it turns into _I won't_.

Quickly Elizabeth shakes her head, pushing herself to sit, sucking in one breath after another to regain control. Such thoughts are _dangerous_ , and she draws her knees up and clutches her head in agony. She can feel the heat of her fingertips as she presses them against her temples, welcoming the searing pain. Goddesses are the bearers of light, goddesses are the caretakers of the world. Her clan lives to save the lives of others, to lead the others to peace, to be the example and the torchbearers for Britannia. It was her greatest shame to not fight alongside the others, kept away so the queen would never know the sorrow of losing her daughter—at least, that is what she had assumed.

But now the queen is giving her away, sending her to the arms of the enemy.

This is why they fight; this is why her mother is fighting, _always fighting_. She whispers to herself as the shaking continues: "Goddesses are light, goddesses are grace, goddesses are light, _goddesses are grace_ …"

So why send her to the darkness? Elizabeth whimpers and drops her forehead to her knees, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. She cannot even imagine the place, the demon king's palace. Would she ever see the sky? Would she ever feel a fresh breeze? The idea of _who_ or _what_ she would even be wedded to sends a deep shudder through her. Elizabeth imagines a creature of darkness: curling horns, sharp teeth, hooves for feet and blood on his arms. His eyes would be black pools of nothingness, and he would take her and extinguish her light, her life.

"I can't, I can't, I _can'tIcan'tIcan't_ …"

Her pleas do nothing, her cries change nothing. She still has so many questions: who is this demon, what is she expected to do, how will she be the queen of that vile clan? When was this decided, and how? Why was she never told? Her questions are unanswered, and she has no one to ask. The servants will not know, her mother will not see her, and the archangels will not reveal the queen's secrets. She realizes eventually that even if she had her answers, she would still be marrying the future king of demons; but it does little to help, so she cries until she has nothing left.

Now she is empty, as empty as her room. Elizabeth looks around in a daze. "What should I do?" she says aloud to no one. "What can I do?"

Of course there is no response. She glances down again at her hands in her lap, hands that had been pressed together in prayer the day before. Slowly she sinks down, curling into herself as the hours slip by into afternoon, then evening. No one comes for her, and no word comes from her mother. There is nothing left but to obey.

* * *

Meliodas paces the floor of his study, thinking. Estarossa sits nearby in silence, but he pays him no mind. His eyes are on the floor, following the grain in the wood as he walks back and forth, back and forth. The room is silent except for his footfalls, warmed by flickering lamps and a small fire in the hearth on the other end of the room.

"How could he do this?" Estarossa growls finally. "Those goddesses are disgusting, and cannot be trusted—how can father debase us so much as to work alongside them, any of them?"

"The report says he was deceived," answers Meliodas. He continues his pacing interrupted, his arms folded tightly. "There was a girl—"

"I know what the report _says_ ," his brother interrupts. "I just don't _understand_ it."

Meliodas pauses now to look over at the demon. He is sitting rather sulkily on a lounge made of leather, his elbows planted on his knees as he tilts forward. "And that goddess today, that Mael, thinking he could speak to any of us like that—"

He sees Estarossa's hands clench. "Be careful of that hatred," Meliodas warns.

It is obvious that Estarossa is struggling with just that, and Meliodas turns away. He is angry too, an odd but not unwelcome feeling; feeling _anything_ is a bit odd anymore. He is tired, too, from the lack of sleep and the flight to Belialuin, followed by the energy to keep his powers in check. Perhaps that is why he has allowed his brother's company, he decides, since he is not functioning at full capacity.

"You should get some rest," he advises Estarossa. "We will be heading out tomorrow to hunt."

"Hunt what?"

He looks up, confused, and Meliodas presses his lips into a thin line. "Goddesses," he answers.

Estarossa smiles. "Let's start with that bastard from today."

Huffing in annoyance, Meliodas heads to the desk still covered in his maps and notes. "Your temper is your undoing," he advises. "It's why your Commandment is that of Love. Your hate blinds you to all of the possibilities."

"The king has allied himself to the goddesses," mutters Estarossa. " _That_ is the truth."

Meliodas snorts. "Yes. The king must have decided punishing Belialuin was worth putting aside the war for a bit. For as the poets say," and here he gives a little wave of his hand, " _the enemy of my enemy is my friend_."

Estarossa looks at him in surprise, and then laughs. "How you haven't killed that one is beyond me."

Meliodas chuckles to himself. "If you ever get a tutor yourself, then you'd understand."

Ignoring the comment, Estarossa asks, "If we are not hunting the archangel, then who exactly are we looking for?"

"Mael said something interesting," Meliodas says. "He told me the goddesses could be persuasive." He glances over and sees his brother raise an eyebrow. "Our trip to Belialuin was not in vain after all. He all but confirmed the goddesses are manipulating our soldiers. Now we need to figure out how. If the archangels know how it works, it follows there are others who do as well. We need to find a way in, a ranked officer perhaps, or a family member. Then we can—"

There is a knock at the door, and Meliodas barks, "Come in!"

A servant enters, carrying a covered tray. "This arrived for you, Your Highness," he says, and after placing the tray on the desk quickly scurries out.

"An admirer?" Estarossa teases, and Meliodas shoots him a look. He pulls the cover off, surprised to see a crisp envelope sitting on the flat silver.

"No, it's a letter," he says simply.

Estarossa laughs. "Who would be writing _you_ a letter?"

Meliodas is curious as well, and snatches it up. There is no seal or name on the outside, so he rips the side of the envelope and pulls out a piece of white parchment.

Something clings to the paper, a scent of something otherworldly, and he breathes in for a moment. He recognizes it, but where? Meliodas can see his hand trembling just a bit, and frowns at his reaction. "Who is it from?" Estarossa calls over.

Meliodas opens the paper and watches as words form on their own on the surface. The ink is nearly translucent, and changes color when he turns the letter. An elegant, looping script, something that Chandler would most likely be enthralled with, fills the paper. He walks towards the lamp on the table to hold it closer to the light, his pulse beating loudly in his ears as he reads.

 _Your Excellency,_

 _It has come to my recent attention that you and I are betrothed to be married. My mother, the Supreme Deity of the Goddess clan, has promised my hand in marriage to the first born son of the King of Demons. This betrothal was sealed with an oath between our gods. It cannot be broken._

 _I do not wish to marry someone I do not know. My mother has not informed me of the date of our wedding, only assuring me it will be soon. Yet it is my desire to meet you beforehand, so I may prepare myself to be received by Your Grace._

 _Therefore, I must respectfully request your presence here at my home. You may come to the Celestial Gate and will be given admittance for a short time, so we may speak. I have taken it upon myself to make these arrangements, and must ask your compliance at your most earliest convenience._

 _Respectfully Yours,  
Elizabeth_

"Elizabeth?" he whispers, a deep shudder rocking through him. At once a memory flashes—a tuft of silver hair that matches the silver leaves of a box, soft sheets bundled around an infant who slept—and he shakes himself from it.

"Well?" Estarossa calls again. "Who is it from?"

Meliodas turns to look at him, bewildered for the first time in his life. "It's from the princess of the goddess clan." He would laugh at the way Estarossa's mouth drops open if he did not feel so absurd himself. "She wants to meet me."

There is a pause, and then Estarossa snorts. "You should go. Then you can take her head."

But Meliodas only smiles. "Even better," he says. "I think I know who I am hunting now."


	6. Chapter Five: Meeting

**A/N:** First of all, thank you so much to those who are continuing to read and especially those who leave reviews or send messages. The responses I've received so far on the fic have actually helped immensely in my editing, to know what is working, what is clear, what I should be giving more or less about. So thank you for your feedback, it really goes a long way to helping me make sure I'm producing the best story possible.

If I did not respond to you personally, I apologize, I was under the weather this week. I will reply very soon. I also want to thank my friends BaconWaffle2016 and Galfridus for volunteering to read over this chapter for me after I woke up this morning and realized I had completely rewritten it at two in the morning.

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Meeting**

 _The rebellion has gone too far;_  
 _it has hurt us cruelly_  
 _without truthful reasons._

 _When everything's ruining_  
 _we have to start over_  
 _... existing._

 _When everything's changing_  
 _we have to start over_  
 _... waking up._

— _Jonas Goncalves_

Britannia, the land between the kingdoms of the Goddesses and the Demons, houses three natural gates to both realms. High ranking members of both clans can create a rip with powerful magic, causing the seal around Britannia to bend and allow passage between the worlds. The land which is occupied by humans, giants, fairies, among others, keeps balance and order, so that one or the other cannot claim the innate magic of the world for their own.

For a demon to enter the Celestial Realm, or a goddess to go to the realm of demons, one must use one of the gates. These are places in the world that are fiercely guarded, and each clan has many safeguards and spells in place that would make assault and infiltration impossible.

Meliodas stands with eyes set, looking at the entrance to the place where one of the gates to the Celestial Realm exists. They are in the northwestern side of Britannia, the winds cold on his skin, the taste of the sea not too far away. This place is all rolling hills and rock, but the gate is within a valley that was carved by nature and magic between two hills.

The smell of goddesses and the metallic taste of their power fills his senses. Meliodas knows his eyes are a deep black and can feel the pulsing of his demon mark on his brow. Only once has he ever been inside the sacred palace, that day when he first met this princess, bearing a gift to a baby he wanted to kill on sight. The demon remembers very little of the place, but that is no matter. He holds the note from Elizabeth that bears her seal and signature to give him entrance, but he cannot help but wonder if this is a trick.

"What are your orders, General?"

He turns to look over his shoulder. Behind him, sloping down the hill opposite to the entrance, is a sizeable portion of the demon army, waiting for his command to strike. Four of the Ten Commandments are also there by his bidding among the red and gray demons who stand with impatience, their instinct to fight surely being driven mad by the presence of their enemies. His plan is simple: enter the Celestial Realm, use the princess to get information on the weapon he seeks, and then open the gate to invade the land of goddesses. More soldiers and the rest of the Commandments are nearby, ready to move in as reinforcements once the first group is through the gate. Best not to show every card in the hand, so to speak.

And yet, he hesitates. There is a guard, certainly, but this is not at all what he expected. If this was a trick, they would have been assaulted by now, surely. Could this princess be… sincere?

"Stay here," Meliodas finally says. "Estarossa, you are coming with me."

His brother steps forward, but Galand says, "Perhaps I should come? After all, if they are lying about this—"

"If they are lying we'll know soon enough," Meliodas says with a sly smile. "But their hatred of our clan may be useful to us."

With that settled, he takes off in the air, Estarossa following wordlessly behind. They land moments later outside of the Gate. It is huge, the sides crafted from white marble into the shapes of goddesses, possibly heroes and gods of their kind. It is not terribly unlike the obsidian doorways to the demon realm; even though the magic is foreign, there is also a familiarity to it.

At once the goddesses guarding it move into formation. "Stand back, demons!" the leader calls. "You will leave immediately if you value your lives!"

Meliodas drops his chin slightly as he stares at the goddess in challenge. "I've been invited," he says simply.

Deep down he had wondered if this was a trick, and had prepared to fight his way in if necessary. But to his surprise, the two soldiers lower their weapons. "Are you the demon prince Meliodas?" asks the leader.

Meliodas smirks. "He's heard of me," he jokes to Estarossa before turning his attention to the guard. "I am here as a guest of your princess."

"You can enter," the goddess says, and then points over his shoulder. "Not him."

Estarossa takes a step forward. "You're not going in there alone," he mutters, but Meliodas holds out a hand, halting him.

"If I'm not back in an hour," he says, loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear, "then bring the whole of the demon forces and kill every one of these guards."

He is pleased to see all but the leader tense. "Your lies are meaningless here," replies the goddess. "Now step forward and enter before I change my mind, regardless of what Her Highness wishes."

Meliodas rolls his eyes and gives a nod to Estarossa. "Stay here until I return. You have your orders."

"Of course," Estarossa replies. Then he tilts his head a bit, raising his brows. "Now don't go falling in love with that princess."

Meliodas cannot help but laugh at his brother's joke. Then he moves into position, wincing as a bright white light overpowers him.

* * *

Elizabeth sits at her table, waiting as she does every day. But this day is different; today, for the first time in as far back as she remembers, she is not waiting for her mother.

She takes a slow, steadying breath before smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. There are no little cakes or the gilded china she normally has laid out for the queen, just a simple teapot and three plain cups with saucers. She is dressed in formal clothing and a jewel at her throat, wanting to project the image of strength and nobility, without any softness or sweetness. There would be no warm reception for the guest she had been waiting to see for two days.

When the door opens, Elizabeth leaps from her seat, every nerve on edge in anticipation. Yet it is not whom she feared: instead, a lovely young goddess dressed in an army uniform stalks inside, her gaze firm on the princess.

"Jelamet!" cries Elizabeth, hurrying around the table to greet her friend. "You came!"

"Of course I came, I always do when you send for me, but Elizabeth—" She takes the princess' hands, and Elizabeth looks questioningly into her friend's studied gaze. "What is all this? I've been told you invited a _demon prince_ to the palace. How could you do such a thing?"

"There is so much to tell you," Elizabeth whispers, her heart inside of her throat. She squeezes the goddess' hands reassuringly, her face tight in a practiced smile. "Come and sit, and I will explain."

But Jelamet continues on, "Elizabeth, you cannot do this! When the queen finds out—if my father finds out! You'll be in terrible trouble." She searches Elizabeth's face pleadingly. "Please, stop them, tell them to bar the gates."

Elizabeth sighs. "He's my betrothed," she whispers, her eyes falling to the floor.

She feels Jelamet step backwards, dropping her hands. "What? How?"

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth says quietly, "I've been promised in marriage to the son of the Demon King. I have invited him here to meet with him first."

A shocked silence fills the room, and the princess dares to glance up, only to see her friend's face twisted into shock. "This can't be true," she insists.

"The queen told me herself." Elizabeth's voice trembles a bit, and she clutches her hands together, trying to remain steady. "I didn't know."

The princess feels her cheeks burn with the confession. She watches as confusion turns to frustration over Jelamet's expression. "I'm so sorry," her friend says. "I don't know what to say."

Elizabeth breathes a deep sigh. "Say you'll stay, and be with me when I meet this prince."

Jelamet reaches forward and takes the princess by the elbows. "Of course I'll stay, you can't be alone when you meet him." She brushes a strand of hair back behind her ear, and Elizabeth shivers, remembering her mother had done the same. "I'll protect you," Jelamet says fiercely.

With a smile, Elizabeth's shoulders sag, and she leads the goddess to the table to sit. But before they can, there is a flurry of activity at the door, drawing both of their attentions.

A guard hurries in and bows. "Your Highness!" she says tightly, "There is—someone here for you! A demon!"

This is the moment she had feared, and her heart is at once seized with dread. Sure enough, the presence of the demon begins to slink into the room, the feeling of darkness coming ahead of the one who draws closer. But Elizabeth draws on her lessons of diplomacy and poise, willing herself to stay calm, drinking in several gulps of air. "Please show him in," she manages to say evenly.

"Elizabeth," hisses Jelamet behind her, but she holds up a hand to silence her as the demon enters.

He is not the bloody, disgusting creature she had imagined, yet she finds herself caught between fear and fascination nonetheless. The first thing she sees are his eyes, pitch black, that zoom straight to her and seem to pierce right through her body. They are narrowed, fixed on her face for a long moment before they drag slowly down her form. They are expressionless, revealing nothing, his mouth set firmly. Elizabeth feels exposed all at once as he takes her in, fighting the urge to cower or cover herself, willing herself to simply remain _still_.

To combat her nerves, she examines him as well. Wild golden hair crowns a surprisingly youthful face, that would be beautiful if it was not set in a cold, calculating disgust. He wears dark clothing, just pants and a vest, his arms and chest exposed and carved into hard muscle. He is shorter than she is, but Elizabeth knows better than to let that fool her. After all, Sariel looks like a child himself.

That thought shakes her, and Elizabeth steps forward. "Are you… the prince?" she asks.

His eyes study her for a moment before responding, "Are you Elizabeth?"

Hearing her name come from his mouth sends her blood to ice. It sounds like an accusation, shameful but enticing at the same time, and Elizabeth must dig her nails into her palms to keep herself steady. "I am," she replies, and by some grace her voice is even. "You must be Meliodas."

With that, she dips into a deep curtsey, her eyes never leaving his. The demon's lip twitches as he seems to smother a smirk, and a shiver goes up her spine at the sight.

Elizabeth straightens and says, "Thank you for coming to see me."

He does not respond, but his eyes dart over her shoulder. Elizabeth glances behind to see Jelamet standing there in shock. The goddess looks so afraid, she wishes she could give an encouraging word; but that is not possible in front of _him_. "This is my… chaperone," she explains, her eyes meeting his again. "May I introduce Jelamet, daughter of Mael."

He definitely smirks this time, and she wonders what it means. But still the demon does not say a word, so she gestures to the table. "Would you care to sit?"

"No," he answers pointedly, folding his arms.

The demon even goes so far to flex a bit, his mouth now curling around his smirk. She knows he is trying to intimidate her, but Elizabeth is determined to stay strong. "Will you please have a seat," she says again, slowly and deliberately, much firmer this time.

Neither move until finally Elizabeth lifts her chin and heads over to the table. She takes her time, assuming it would be too much to hope that he would move to hold her chair for her and assist her to sit as she would expect any male companion to do; of course he does not disappoint. She takes her own seat then, her hands shaking as she settles herself onto the cushion, and nods to Jelamet, who sits next to her.

She can hear her friend's sharp intake of breath but Elizabeth ignores it. The princess does not look up to see what the demon is doing. Instead, she pours three servings of tea, catching him moving closer out of the corner of her eye. When that is done, she sets the teapot on the table before finally looking up. "Would you care for some sugar, Your Grace?" she asks coolly.

"What is this about?" he demands. "Why did you ask me here?"

Again his voice sends a pierce of cold through her. It is like gravel, the voice of a beast. Elizabeth had only seen monsters in picture books, and at once she remembers a story inside of one of a beast who had stolen away a girl of immeasurable beauty. She recalls asking her tutor why the beast was so sad, and the tutor gently chastising her as he pulled it from her hand, explaining that monsters did not have feelings.

Elizabeth frowns. What an odd memory to surface. "We are to be married," she says bluntly. "I wanted to meet you first."

The prince places his hands on the table and leans in towards her. "Are you that eager, my goddess?" he all but sneers.

Her eyes go wide at the idea. "It is you demons who are demanding the marriage," she whispers fiercely.

The demon snorts rudely. "More lies. Do goddesses even know how to tell the truth?"

"How dare you," hisses Jelamet, but Elizabeth places a hand on her arm, giving her head a little shake when her friend looks at her.

Elizabeth looks up at the demon, who is glaring at her intently. Demons are liars and manipulators, killers and thieves and torturers. And yet, he is accusing her of being false? She searches his eye for some meaning, but all that stares back are the deep pools of darkness. Yet the princess finds that she is not frightened of him, not in any way that matters. And _that_ is a marvel, because everything she has learned and known about demons is at once confirmed and counteracted by the one who is staring at her over the sugar bowl.

She licks her lips and tries to smile, deciding on a different tactic. "Perhaps with our union we can begin to mend our differences," she says.

His eyes are so dark, like ink, and Elizabeth finds herself again sinking into his gaze. The darkness of his soul is so evident, the power and strength that sits beneath his skin is plain, and yet she does not fear him, not truly. Her heart flutters just a bit, feeling for a moment as though he is searching for something. A lie in her eyes, perhaps? No, more like a secret, she decides, which makes her relax. Elizabeth has no secrets.

Confidently she watches him as he watches her. Elizabeth can sense Jelamet growing agitated beside her, but she refuses to break the silence. She has asked a question; it is up to him now to respond. She reminds herself they are of even station, and their union is decreed by both parents. This Meliodas may wish to intimidate her, but for the first time, Elizabeth will not allow herself to be intimidated.

Meliodas tilts his head just a bit before pushing back from the table. With a bit of flourish he sits down in the chair opposite of her, and with a surprising show of manners, pulls the napkin from its place and drapes it over his lap. His eyes never leave hers as he reaches out and takes the teacup, holding the saucer exactly right as he brings the cup to his lips.

She watches him blow a bit on the hot liquid, that little gesture making her blush for some reason. Then he takes a long sip, and Elizabeth watches, enraptured, as his throat moves with his swallow. How startling that a fearsome killer such as the demon prince knows how to sip tea properly; the idea almost makes her laugh. Then the cup and saucer are returned to their place on the table; finally, Elizabeth feels as though she can breathe again.

"Mend our differences," he says finally. "Which ones in particular, princess?"

Elizabeth sits up a bit straighter. For the past two days she has practiced this moment: suggesting a truce in the fighting. Surely he will see reason, she had said to herself as she wrote the invitation. The demon and goddess clans are destined to unite with their marriage; how could a war continue on between the two? All she needed to do was explain how ending the war would be best _now_.

Deep down, she hoped that this worked, not just for Britannia but for herself. If the demons could come to an agreement, then perhaps she would not need to carry out her mother's command. Perhaps the queen would be satisfied, and return to the Celestial Realm, and assure her that she did not need to marry the next king of demons. Perhaps the Supreme Deity would be so impressed with her diplomacy that she would allow Elizabeth to go to Britannia herself once peace was restored.

"The war between our clans is—" She stutters, fighting for words under the intensity of his stare, "—the people of Britannia are suffering from it—"

"So the goddesses care now for the people of Britannia?" His brows go up in a mocking fashion. "Since when did that happen?"

Her chest tightens, both from the interruption of her speech and the lie. "The queen works tirelessly for Britannia," she says incredulously.

"Does she now." He examines her for a moment, and Elizabeth stares back at him. What was he implying, exactly?

The stern expression once more begins to give way to a smirk, grating on her nerves. "Explain yourself," she demands. "Are you denying that the queen is fighting to bring peace to Britannia?"

Meliodas folds his arms. "I do not deny she fights. Whether peace is her goal I could not say."

Before the princess can respond, Jelamet leans forward. "I won't hear this slander against our queen. I don't care if you're a prince or not, you will watch what you say, especially in front of Her Highness."

Elizabeth murmurs to her to keep calm, suddenly worried that he will lash out at them. After all, the demons are little more than animals. But the prince does not react; his eyes have not left her, not once. She studies his face, trying to figure out why he would tell such an easily proven lie. Was it just to rattle her, or make her angry? No, that did not seem to be his way. Meliodas is a demon, and the darkness is unmistakable. He is haughty and brusque, but that seemed to be more from his station than anything. She is beginning to see how everything he does, from the way he sits to his words to the way he sips his tea is deliberately and carefully plotted. The prince is intelligent, for certain. So why lie?

"There was a town that was attacked several weeks ago," he says slowly, pulling her from her observations. "Perhaps you heard about it?"

Elizabeth exchanges a glance with Jelamet. "Her Highness does not go to the battlefield," her friend replies in a clipped manner.

"How strange. You leave your mother to do all the work?"

Now it is Elizabeth's turn to bristle. "I would fight if I could," she answers. Jelamet tries to shush her, but the princess shakes her head. She draws herself up, trying to use her height to her advantage as she glares at the prince, her wings stretching out a bit behind her. "The queen wishes for me to stay here, for my safety."

Meliodas nods slowly, unruffled. "That is kind of her. It does leave her stretched rather thin though, don't you agree?"

Elizabeth blinks. "What do you mean?"

He is still staring at her, and Elizabeth knows he is just waiting for her reaction, waiting for her to slip and reveal something. But what? "This town was set on fire. The knights tried to push back the attack, but were overwhelmed. It was utter destruction."

She gasps, her hand going to her mouth. Elizabeth remembers seeing a city on fire, the demons and knights fighting, the people dying. She had seen it all in the looking glass. "I do know of that town," she says.

"You do?" Meliodas tilts his head. "I thought Your Highness did not go to the battlefield."

"I don't, I—"

Elizabeth cuts herself off, her heart beating wildly. She notes how the prince's brow twitches slightly, and she wonders why. But something tells her not to reveal the prayers she says for the warriors, so instead Elizabeth continues, "I was shown the fighting through an observation orb. The city was on fire, with red and gray and blue demons attacking the citizens."

She swallows thickly, remembering the gory sight, and remembering why it is she brought this demon to her table. "Your clan attacked. The humans could not stop the slaughter. But the queen arrived with her soldiers, and with her holy light she—"

"In this town, no goddesses arrived to help. The buildings were burned to the ground, and the people perished."

"No," she says, shaking her head. Meliodas gave no reaction, and Elizabeth frowned. "You're wrong. I saw the goddesses arrive. They—they saved them."

"Are you sure?" He cocks his head to the side. "If you do not go to battle, how can you know?"

Elizabeth stammers, "I-I… I saw. I was shown the fighting—"

"You saw the fighting?" Meliodas is studying her now, his expression genuinely curious. But that barely registers as Elizabeth fights to remember what _exactly_ she did see. "How did you see it if you weren't there?"

Her mind whirls as she tries to think of a response. "You were probably there yourself," Jelamet says angrily. She bangs her hand on the table. "You and your clan have brought nothing but death and misery to Britannia. Demons are no more than vile monsters."

"It's possible I was," Meliodas responds, his eyes sliding back to Elizabeth. "Perhaps we are speaking of two different cities."

Elizabeth searches his face, looking for the truth, but his expression remains impassive. "From what I understand," he says carefully, "the demons were turned away from the attack."

"Turned away?"

"Do you know anything about that, princess? Did you see that as well?"

Elizabeth shakes her head as Jelamet interjects, "Of course she didn't. We told you that she does not—"

" _She_ brought this up." The cool, mocking demeanor of the prince is rapidly turning into something akin to irritation, but whether to her or this conversation Elizabeth could not be sure. "If I'm not here to discuss the state of the war, then what did you drag me here for?"

"I just…" Elizabeth shivers at the way he was glaring at her now, even as she tries to unpack the truth of what exactly had occurred at the attack. "I thought we could…"

"Thought we could what? End a war that has been brewing before either of us were ever born? That we could share a cup of tea and I would be so moved by the blue of your eye and the swell of your breast from the top of your fine dress that I would surrender my army? That I would fall in love with you and—"

"Stop!"

Elizabeth's cheeks are on absolute _fire_ , humiliation making her heart pound and her arms shake. She wishes she could sink into the floor, knowing this was nothing but a mistake. "I didn't… want any of those things."

Meliodas smiles cruelly. "Then tell me what you did want."

"I wanted to see you for myself," she says.

There is a pause, her confession seeming to surprise him. Elizabeth watches him closely as terror at what she has done and what she has heard begins to take root inside her stomach. "I understand. Demons are nothing but monsters, isn't that what you said? You must have been expecting something with claws and horns, blood dripping from its chin?" Elizabeth looks away, uncomfortable at how close he is to the truth. "You've had your look now," he says. His voice is deep, almost a growl, and it seems to slink over her flesh like a caress. "What do you think?"

Elizabeth's eyes widen in shock as once again Jelamet snaps at him. "You dare speak to the princess this way!" The demon only chuckles, and her friend leans towards her to speak. "Don't answer him. He's just a vulgar, vile demon."

"Such name-calling," mutters the prince, casually taking another sip from his cup.

But Elizabeth is determined to answer. He deserves this much at least, she thinks, watching him carefully as the china makes a soft tinkling sound. "You asked why I invited you," she says, "so tell me first, why did you come?"

One of his brows arches slightly, and Elizabeth is surprised to feel warm satisfaction in her chest. "As you say, we are to be married," he replies. His tone is mocking, but there is something behind it, something she cannot place. "Now answer my question. What do you think of me so far?"

He has put her on the spot, and now she cannot refuse. So Elizabeth takes a deep breath, trying to think. This Meliodas has been nothing but rude, and seems to disdain even simple courtesies… and yet, the way he carries himself and drinks his tea, even the artful way he humiliated her, shows that he is not ignorant, either. She looks him over, finding his clothing distasteful even if it is alluring, his mocking smile on the surface arrogant yet hinting at the cleverness underneath his question.

"I see… someone strong. I see a powerful leader." She pauses as her eyes drag over him. "You could rule the demon clan with fear and intimidation, but you are more cunning than that. You are curious about things. And you…"

Her voice falters. The look of genuine surprise on his face has softened the hard features, and Elizabeth is caught off-guard by his handsomeness. Such a silly thing to distract her, especially from one such as _he_ , but he is staring at her with open curiosity now, which she decides is preferable to the open hostility of before. Desperately she tries to think of more, but the new look of his face and the darkness in his eyes once more has her captured, her mind going hazy.

Quickly she looks down, nervously straightening her own teacup, which is untouched. "What do you think of me?"

He leans in closer, and with trepidation she looks up through her lashes. "I see a goddess who wears her charms out for all to see," he smiles. His eyes drag down and linger on her cleavage, causing a deep blush to flare along her neck and face. "You are beautiful, I will give you that."

"Thank you," she whispers, the heat searing her cheeks.

"But your innocence over this war? That is certainly feigned. You invited me here in order to use what little appeal you have to entice me. Isn't that right?"

Elizabeth, frozen in shock and shame, chokes out, "That's—it's not true—"

"The goddesses are liars," he proclaims, his smile never wavering.

"And the demons are killers, murderers, destroyers," Jelamet snaps.

His eyes, which had remained connected to hers through Jelamet's outburst, finally drag away to look at the goddess. "Is that so?" he muses, sitting back in his chair. "You're the daughter of Mael, is that correct? I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance the other day."

Elizabeth's heart picks up speed as she feels Jelamet stiffen. "What did you—"

"I stopped my brother from tearing him apart. Mael was not exactly grateful." The prince huffs a little laugh and looks back at Elizabeth. "I saw him at Belialuin, on an errand to meet with the clan leader there."

She blinks, not knowing how to respond. He is watching her closely, looking for a reaction, but why? What does he want? Elizabeth remains still, unmoved, until he asks, "Have you had the pleasure of visiting Belialuin recently, Your Highness?"

Elizabeth shakes her head. "I've heard of the place, of course—"

"It's quite beautiful there," Meliodas says. "The streets and buildings are truly a marvel of innovation. The science and magic that is studied there has the potential to change the world. Britannia is well in the debt of those great minds who live there." He tilts his head. "Perhaps you can accompany me there sometime."

The way he speaks of the place has her intrigued, but it such a switch from the taunting and accusations that once more she finds herself trying to keep up. Her nerves have her trembling, and she clutches her dress in her lap. What game is he playing now?

Wanting to surprise him, she lifts her chin slightly and answers, "I would go, if the queen would allow it."

Meliodas grins, as if he likes the idea too. "Of course, if the queen consents. I'm sure you would find the place quite interesting. In fact, Mael was there overseeing some recent changes to the city." His eyes flicker to Jelamet briefly. "But it seems as if you are not troubled by such things."

"Troubled by what things?" Elizabeth frowns.

His eyes narrow abruptly, but at that moment Ludoshel bursts into the room with a shout. "Your Highness! Get away from him!"

Before Elizabeth can react, the archangel sends a burst of magic at the table. Jelamet grabs her by the arm and yanks her away with a shout, but Elizabeth can only gasp. Then, something remarkable happens: the magic is sent flying the other way, blasting around Ludoshel and connecting with the wall behind him. The stone breaks with a crash and falls as rubble to the ground, dust billowing through the air, leaving them coughing and clutching one another.

Elizabeth looks up frantically for the demon, and to her utter astonishment he is still seated, unharmed, drinking his tea. It's as if he had not even noticed the explosion. He places his cup down on the saucer before his eyes look up and connect with hers.

She gasps, because he has changed. On his brow the smooth skin is marred with a mark Elizabeth has never seen. It reminds her of the sun, but black as ink, the symbol bleeding across his forehead and down towards his cheeks. She wonders what it is, sensing immediately it is not a birthmark or tattoo or even a branding. Yet the symbol fascinates her, and she finds herself memorizing it just as much as she is committing the rest of the disquieting prince to memory. Every nerve in her body responds to his darkness, alarms ring inside of her head telling her to run, to hide, to get as far away from the one who is staring at her now, the one with animosity written on his face, the one whose power she can sense is positively immense.

 _The one whom she will one day call husband._

"You'll pay for that," Ludoshel growls, stepping forward and drawing a sword. Elizabeth cries out as he swings, stopping short of cleaving the demon in two. The blade is a hair's breadth away from his chest; and yet still Meliodas does not move, his gaze does not waver from her.

"What a shameful way to treat a guest," the prince sighs.

Elizabeth shakes herself, pulling her arm from Jelamet's grip. "Ludoshel! Stop this!" she shouts. The archangel glances at her but does not stand down. "I invited him. He is my guest, do not harm him!"

"This is a trick of the enemy," Ludoshel answers. "His demon forces are at our gates."

She looks at Meliodas in alarm. "Is that true? Did you come to attack us?"

"No," he answers calmly. "I told you, all goddesses are liars." Elizabeth's mouth falls open as he continues, "I did bring a force, but they are not at the gates. Just some assurance in case I was attacked. It seems as though I was right to worry."

With that said, he stands slowly. Ludoshel does not move, so the blade at his chest slices through the demon's skin. Elizabeth gasps in shock as dark blood begins to drip down the curvature of his muscles, her mind whirling a bit at seeing such a blatant display of gore.

Yet he does not react, merely turning to face Ludoshel. The archangel is a full head taller than the demon, yet he seems to shrink a bit under the prince's glare. Then Ludoshel growls and hauls the weapon back, and Elizabeth moves.

"No!" Her hands are out as she throws herself between the blade and the demon, her heart pounding as she fears the first pierce of the sword.

Thankfully, it does not come. Her breathing is stuttered but she remains firm, and meets Ludoshel's glare. The weapon is still poised in the air, but now aiming straight for her. Yet Elizabeth stays steady, challenging him silently.

After a moment, Jelamet calls over pleadingly, "Sir!"

Slowly Ludoshel lowers his sword. "Your mother will hear of this," he hisses at her, and then turns and leaves the room.

Elizabeth sags, the weight of his words and what she has done crashing around her suddenly. Jelamet appears at her side with a firm and reassuring hand, and her friend's kind eyes keep her from falling apart. "Are you all right?" the goddess whispers, and Elizabeth nods, before turning around to look at the prince.

Meliodas is simply staring at her, his face expressionless. But the demon mark is faded from his brow, and now that they are truly face-to-face, she is filled with a strange sort of wonder at him. He is a creature far different than she, but a prince just the same. He has been cold and calculating, his words tipped with rudeness, but Elizabeth must admit she had been just as guarded, just as cool, and after Ludoshel's behavior she can understand why Meliodas would behave this way.

She had expected a monster, and instead Meliodas had strode through the door.

Blood is still travelling in a stream down his body, drawing her attention as she breaks their connection. "You're hurt," she says, and reaches a hand towards the angry red cut across his chest.

Her fingers are trembling as the familiar heat builds at the tips. She looks up and into his eyes, still trained on her—had there been more than a handful of moments that he wasn't looking at her, studying her, watching her? The light makes contact with his skin a moment before her fingertips, and she notes a miniscule wince when it does. The bleeding had already stopped, but her healing magic helps the process along, the skin moving together as it sews and creates new bonds to close the wound.

As she watches the process, it strikes her that she is healing a demon. Healing an _enemy_. Is this treason? At once she remembers that her mother will learn all that has happened here, and that there will be a consequence for her actions. But for now, the touch of his skin feels right, somehow. Elizabeth presses her energy forward, wishing him healed, becoming captured by this connection between them.

A connection he breaks when he grips her wrist. "Enough," Meliodas says, and pushes her away.

Elizabeth steps back with a deep breath, suddenly needing space from him. "I'm sorry for what happened," she says earnestly. "I don't know what came over Ludoshel. But I'm sure he was just trying to protect me."

Meliodas tilts his head a bit. "You really are innocent of the world, aren't you?"

The goddess opens her mouth to protest, but pauses. Everything she has known about demons is now in question because of the prince standing before her. His power and his malevolence are unmistakable; yet, he had not tried to hurt her. He may be ruthless and callous in his demeanor, but are all princes this way? He is right, she knows so little about the world. His insistence that he is not lying about the war nag at her; if the queen had kept the betrothal from her, what else does Elizabeth not know? For the first time she feels a flash of anger at her mother for keeping her locked away, and a sense of shame for never having questioned it.

 _All goddesses lie_ , he had told her.

"I would be grateful to learn more of you," she says in answer.

"Elizabeth." Jelamet's hand is gentle on her arm. "Send him away. If your mother arrives and he is here, it will go badly for all of us."

She knows her friend is right, but Elizabeth _doesn't want to_. It's like a spark inside of her, this new sensation of wanting to know more, burning inside her heart. "I…" Elizabeth flounders for words, unsure of what to do. "Would you—"

"No." His word is final, but surprisingly not sharp. "I have had my fill of goddesses today."

The demon turns and walks towards the door. Before she can stop herself, Elizabeth calls out, "Will I see you again?"

Meliodas pauses mid-stride, hesitating. But he does not answer, his head turning slightly as if to look over his shoulder at her but then thinking better of it. Instead, he leaves without a word.


	7. Chapter Six: Practiced Deception

**Chapter Six: Practiced Deception**

 _Though love repine and reason chafe  
There came a voice without reply  
'T is a man's perdition to be safe  
When for the truth he ought to die._

— _Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Estarossa looks in surprise at Meliodas as he stalks through the portal, returning to Britannia. "That did not take as long as I expected."

"Let's go," Meliodas says in response, not bothering to look at the guards that watch him closely.

His brother hesitates, however. "Should I call for the attack?"

The demon pauses to look over his shoulder. The goddesses are glaring at him, and briefly he considers it. Between that ridiculous meeting and the insult of Ludoshel's attack, he enjoys the thought of laying waste to them, strolling back through the portal, taking out the archangel, and then giving the princess a proper education.

Unexpectedly, his blood turns to ice at the idea. Meeting her was a worthless waste of time, and yet…

"No," he answers. "We're leaving."

Meliodas does not bother to wait for Estarossa's reaction before he is walking back towards the place his army waits. It would be faster to fly, but he needs a moment to think. What is he even doing? He should go back, if not to destroy them, then to at least dig deeper about the weapon. He learned nothing of use except that Elizabeth knows nothing about the state of things.

"Did you actually see her?" He tunes in to Estarossa, who has been chatting away as he follows him. "Did you get any information?"

"No," Meliodas admits.

"What? Then what did you do in there?"

The demon glares straight ahead. "We had tea."

"Tea?" Estarossa laughs, the sound grating his nerves. "You sat and had tea with the daughter of the Supreme Goddess. If I hadn't have been here I wouldn't have believed it."

They continue on in silence, Meliodas thinking about his brother's last statement. Truthfully, he would not have believed it either. Few things can get under his skin anymore, but the hubris of the goddess clan is and always has been one of them. He thinks of the archangel who attacked him without warning and without cause. He vows silently to get revenge for the slight.

"So the princess knew nothing of the weapon? I hope she was at least beautiful to look at."

Meliodas stops. He does not answer, instead turning to look back towards the gate. Estarossa asks something else, which he ignores. He could have fought Ludoshel right then. He could have taken him out, he was sure of it; at the very least, he would have walked away with far less damage. The princess he could have easily done away with if needed.

So why didn't he?

The question nags at him. Ludoshel had burst into their conversation, and meant to kill him. The archangel had stopped on Elizabeth's command—yet so had he. It makes sense for Ludoshel to obey his princess.

Meliodas has no such loyalty to her. Even if the goddess _is_ to be his wife, even if would it, she will be his subject, not the other way around.

Quickly Meliodas assess himself. There is no sign of magic, and he knows he did not feel anything other than Ludoshel's attack. The other goddess in the room, the chaperone, had a moderate level but sent no power towards him. It would have been impossible for the princess to do anything to him; her power level was well below the others. So why had he stopped? Meliodas tightens his hand into a fist. Did they use the weapon on him somehow? Perhaps they tried to muddle his mind, have him forget himself and this war.

The weapon is inside the Celestial Realm, he is sure of it now.

 _Damn them_ , he thinks, turning around and reaching for his sword. He will go back and finish what he started, until every last one of them is nothing more than a corpse on the floor.

Then he pictures Elizabeth, standing in between him and the archangel, defending him. He thinks of her poise at his questions, the curiosity in her eyes devoid of any contempt. She is foolish and naive, but he cannot deny her boldness in inviting him there. Elizabeth never even flinched in front of him, and maintained her composure when he pushed. Yes, she is foolish and naive, but also elegant, and dignified, and her understanding of him is a little too close for comfort.

Not once had Meliodas considered she would actually be interested in _him_ —yet that is _exactly_ what she seemed to want.

 _I would be grateful to learn more of you_.

It nearly makes him uncomfortable, a strange sort of heat searing in his throat.

* * *

When the summons comes from his father, Meliodas ignores it. The call grows stronger, like a tugging on his skin, the connection between their blood and magic allowing the king to reach out and pull him back. He had not felt such a summons for many years; he had learned to resist and ignore it during his absence.

Eventually it stops, and Meliodas smiles to himself. He raises his tankard of ale to his lips, taking a long drought of the cold liquid. It is not as potent as the alcohol in the demon realm, but it is sweeter, more refreshing, and he decides to leave the town intact to produce more. After all, a city in Britannia that can produce a halfway decent brew is as rare as diamonds and even more precious.

A while later, the bell above the door chimes, and Meliodas turns to see who dares enter the tavern where _he_ is relaxing. To his surprise, it is Chandler, the old demon's face at once wrinkling in disgust as he sniffs around. "This place is filthy," he declares.

Meliodas snorts and turns in his stool, back to the bar and his mug. "What are you doing here?" he calls over his shoulder.

Instead of answering, Chandler lifts his long robe and carefully picks his way around the bodies on the floor. "Is this your doing?" he asks.

"No, I found them all like this," he answers. His eyes flicker to the other end of the bar. "Isn't that right, barkeep?"

The human that is crouched on the floor nods at once, his eyes growing wide under the demon's scrutiny. His brow is covered in perspiration and his teeth chatter as he stutters, "Y-yes, m-m-my lord, it-it—"

"Get my friend here a drink," snaps Meliodas, and the human scrambles to obey.

Chandler gives a deep sigh as he delicately sinks into the stool next to the prince. "This was amusing enough when you were a child. But you aren't a child any longer," he scolds.

Meliodas gives a humorless laugh. "Since when were you ever amused by me? Especially as a child."

"Your Highness! I have done nothing but care for your being since the moment you came into the world!" He clutches his chest, fingers digging into the robe.

"That wasn't my question," warns Meliodas.

Chandler sits a little straighter. The barkeep lays a mug of ale in front of him, and carefully the demon holds back his long beard as he leans forward to peer inside. With another derisive sniff he pushes it away. "Your Highness may have gotten into a scrape or two," he replies with a sigh, "but no more mischief than any other young prince might cause. After all, it is said, _play is the road to brilliance_."

"Brilliance, hm?" Meliodas chuckles darkly and shakes his head, taking another long drink. "I was a little shit who did everything rotten I could think of." He lifts his mug again but pauses. "Actually, not much has changed."

His tutor clears his throat. "Plenty has changed. You are not a child any longer. You have responsibility, you have power, you have a destiny—"

"A destiny!" Meliodas throws back the rest of his ale, banging the mug on the counter. "What destiny is that?"

"You are to be king," replies Chandler simply.

He is far from inebriated, but the ale is good enough to fend off a foul mood. Meliodas leans over the bar and grins at the barkeep, who has resumed his trembling in the corner. "Do you hear this nonsense? This one is talking about _destiny_."

The man simply stares back in fear, so Meliodas prompts, "Well? What do you say? Is there such a thing as destiny?"

"Oh why do you always like talking to these _humans_?" Chandler mutters. "So undignified."

Meliodas ignores him, leaning forward a bit more. He taps his mug to indicate a refill; when the man fails to make his limbs work, he places the flat of his hand on the counter. Instantly several dozen gold coins sparkle on the wood, and the man's greed overcomes his fear as he stumbles forward to snatch up the mug.

"Now then," Meliodas says as the bartender places his drink in front of him, "what are your thoughts on destiny?"

"I-I—" Nervously he clears his throat, his eyes switching between the two demons. "I don't suppose on such a th-thing, my lord."

"See!" Meliodas shouts, startling the man, who falls to the ground with the gold coins showering over him. "He agrees, Chandler. Destiny is a crock of shit."

He tips his glass to the tutor, who is watching him measuredly. "Your father has summoned you," he replies finally. "He wishes to discuss your foray into the Celestial Realm."

"You know, I don't get you old men," growls Meliodas. "You want me to be king, you want me to marry a fucking _goddess_ , and yet when I go to see her, you are angry."

"On the contrary. I think the king is quite pleased."

Meliodas blinks, a bit surprised at that. "Is he now," he mutters before taking a long drink. If the king is pleased, then that means he'll at least be left alone for a bit… or, it could go the other way, with the demon taking an even closer interest in his eldest son. "Should have burned the place down," he says to himself.

"Why didn't you, Your Grace?"

He turns sharply to the tutor, a rebuke for being so familiar on his lips; but Chandlers' genuine curiosity stops him. Meliodas curses under his breath and snatches up his mug again, tilting his head back to drain it completely. When he is finished, Chandler is still watching him with some reservation. Annoyed, Meliodas bites out, "I don't answer to you."

"My apologies." The demon gives a deep bow of his head as Meliodas looks away.

The aggravation at this conversation makes his skin grow hot. Meliodas stares at the wood of the bar, his eyes tracing the grain as he glowers. Why didn't he do it? He could have killed those goddesses. He _should_ have done it. That archangel dared to attack him as a guest in the palace. Meliodas had been assured safety and then they tried to kill him.

Not _they_. _He_. That damned archangel. But _Elizabeth_ had not ordered it; she had stepped between them and risked her life.

His teeth grind together at the memory. What had stopped him? He imagines what he could have and should have done: cleave the archangel in two, perhaps pull the soul from his body and devoured his power. The chaperone would have been easy work; he may not have even needed to use his sword, simply letting loose his magic and searing the flesh from her body.

Then the princess… what a prize he had left behind. Normally Meliodas preferred to deal a clean death, finding anything more to be tasteless. But this time… he may have taken some pleasure in the act.

His eyes unfocus a bit as he pictures Elizabeth, her long hair that looked like silk, the creamy skin, the slope of her dress that was nearly immodest. She has never left the Celestial Realm, so she claimed anyway; would she know what was about to be done to her? Meliodas thought of how her flesh would look covered in ribbons of blood, the blue of her eyes turning sharp with fear and agony. Her lips would open to scream; would it come out in a breath as she was overcome, or would the sound grow wild and panicked as he hurt her? Would the goddess fight him, or would she be resolved to her cursed fate to die at his hand?

Yet.. the image did nothing for him. Seeing her in pain would bring him no pleasure. In fact, a pit now forms in his stomach, and Meliodas swallows thickly to soothe it. The truth, however, cannot be denied. He would take her for his wife— _if_ he decides to do such a thing.

His vision changes from stealing her life to living one with her. Meliodas pictures the girl in white robes, coming to him, taking her place by his side. Would it be in fear? Probably not; they had met already, and behind the apprehension in her expression there was no true fear. Would she be willing? He assumes so, given that she had invited him to meet. Elizabeth would be his wife, she would come to the demon realm to serve as his queen and his mate, and he would suffer no harm to come to her.

Would she laugh? Would she sigh? Would Elizabeth speak or remain silent? His queen would wear elegant clothes, be dripping in jewels, be wrapped up in his dark power. The corner of his mouth twitched to think of his magic curling in tendrils around porcelain skin. She would be obedient, but would she challenge him? Would she ask to go to Britannia and see the world—and would he take her?

What then? The wedding bed, her body open and shivering for him. Meliodas feels the spark of something in his spine; he presses it away as simple lust. She was beautiful, her voice and face and body made as if to ensnare any prince who looked her way. He could bring her pleasure or pain, but it would be soft and yielding, not at all like the rough fucking he was accustomed to now when his needs demanded to be met. Meliodas would take his time with her. He would… _enjoy_ her.

Suddenly he blinks, shaking himself from the thought. He scowls and sweeps at his face as if to send away the cobwebs.

"Chandler," he says suddenly, "how long has the war been going on?"

"Hard to say," answers the demon. "The war has been properly fought for a few years now. Ten, perhaps. But we demons have held grievances against the goddesses for as long as Britannia itself."

Meliodas frowns. "This war has been brewing for hundreds of years. Maybe more? Then why has it only been declared so recently?"

Chandler gives a bitter huff, adjusting his cloak. "It is _their_ fault. The demons only want their fair share, but the goddesses will stop at nothing short of annihilation of us all. What else are we to do? Has it not been written, _at times war is the most effective means to bring peace_?"

The tutor's angry words hang between them as both fall silent. Meliodas turns this over in his mind; war is so natural to him, that he never thought to delve into the _why_ before. Goddesses are liars and thieves, who use their light to shield their sins. The hypocrisy and hubris was always enough. But now he has met a goddess who is not like that at all.

"Why, then, would the king arrange this marriage?"

Meliodas looks out of the corner of his eye to gauge his tutor's reaction to the question. To Chandler's credit, he remains impassive, his expression smooth as he returns his gaze. "I am not privy to His Majesty's inner thoughts," the demon replies carefully. "My existence is for _you_ , and that is all that I am."

It is an expected response: measured and revealing nothing. But then he continues, "If I may wager a guess, His Majesty wished to form an alliance. After all, it has been said, _life itself is the battle between two forces_. In his infinite wisdom he must know that this could tear the world apart. So why not try to temper it?"

"He could destroy them," Meliodas mutters. "Obviously the alliance did not work."

"Didn't it? Britannia still exists. The war was put off another two hundred years or more. The goddesses discontinued their slaughter of innocents."

Meliodas nods. It is true enough. "You still haven't answered my question," he observed. "Why the marriage?"

Remarkably, Chandler breaks into a grin. "My beloved prince, have you not worked that out? His Majesty had to use something to barter; what is more precious to the demons than you? You are the prince, the heir, the shining beacon of our clan."

Meliodas waves off his ridiculous compliments. More than likely his father wanted to be rid of him, the one true threat to his throne. But then Chandler says, "The poets say, _true achievement is born of sacrifice_. His Majesty is very selfless to bear the gift of his first born son. What a weight it must have been, seeing you promised to those animals."

The blood inside his veins goes cold at the idea. Meliodas remembers standing in front of both gods, their heads tilted together as they spoke. It had not felt like a sacrifice on the king's part. Was this what he was born to do, be a gift handed over to the goddess clan? "Do you remember the day we went to the Celestial Realm? When I first met the princess?"

"Of course," his companion replies. "What a glorious day to honor you and His Majesty. Those ungrateful goddesses had no idea the honor they received to be in your presence that day."

Meliodas waves off his blustering. "Yes, yes, but do you remember? What happened that day? I only have bits of memory."

The demon taps his chin in thought. "His Majesty, your father, was in the Great Hall with the queen. You were presented to them, and you gave your offering to the little one."

"An offering." Meliodas frowns. There had been a silver box that he held tightly, one that made his insides coil in jealousy. "What was in it?"

* * *

Elizabeth sits on her bed, staring at the silver box. All these years the mystery surrounding it had given her a strange sort of comfort when she was alone or afraid or angry. It had held such promise for her future: a future that she had dreamed one day of peace in Britannia, seeing her mother home and happy, of one day being worthy to take the throne of the Celestial Realm and lead the clans in a new era of grace.

Her finger slides along the familiar smoothness of the silver leaf that decorates the wood box. It brings no comfort today.

With a sigh she glances around her room. The numbness she now experiences is a new sensation; Elizabeth wonders if she has truly cried every tear her body would ever produce. The news of her betrothal to the prince of demons has been outstripped by the contradictions that are now impossible to ignore. She feels so foolish, her cheeks burn with the shame. How could she not have seen this all before?

The queen has been at war with the demon clan, and yet agreed to marry her daughter to one?

The goddess clan fights to protect Britannia from evil, and yet failed to protect a city that was burnt to the ground?

Her lessons from birth had told her that demons were vicious and cruel and relish destruction. Yet the one that came to see her had honesty in his eyes and showed restraint when attacked.

She needs answers.

The box is replaced on the shelf and her shoes are on and a moment later Elizabeth strides out into the hallway. She heads directly towards the council room, hesitating just a second before she pushes it open without knocking.

Ludoshel and Tarmiel are there, and both look up with annoyance at the disturbance. Ludoshel smoothes away his expression into a passive cordiality as he stands from his chair. "Your Highness," he says, inclining his head towards her. "Can I help you with something?"

"I need to see my mother," replies Elizabeth. She is thankful that she managed to keep her voice from shaking.

His brow twitches a bit but his flat expression does not change. "Her Majesty is in Britannia, winning the war. I'm afraid we will need to wait for her return."

"Where?"

Ludoshel blinks at her in surprise. "That is privileged information, Your Highness," he responds, his tone a bit tight. "I'm afraid I can't—"

"I'm the princess," she insists. Her hands are trembling so Elizabeth quickly puts them behind her back. "I deserve to know where she is. I need to speak with her at once."

The two archangels exchange a glance. "Perhaps Your Highness is ill? You must be feeling quite off from the unpleasantness of earlier."

His voice is unmistakable in its biting tone, and Ludoshel begins to approach her. Elizabeth wills herself to stay still. "No, I'm fine, I just—"

"After all," he continues, his eyes narrowing a bit, "inviting a demon here is something your mother would certainly not approve of. I would be anxious as well at being on the receiving end of the queen's disappointment."

Elizabeth swallows nervously. The threat is so thinly veiled, but it's true nonetheless: when the queen catches word of what she has done, there is no doubt she will turn accusing eyes towards her daughter. It is a risk the goddess had been well aware of when she was writing the letter inviting Meliodas to the palace.

Ludoshel places a firm hand on her shoulder. "Allow me to see you back to your room. You must be tired from the exertions of the day."

His touch makes her waver. She should go, she knows she should. Elizabeth can turn around and go back to her room and go back to her life of waiting. It would be easy to do. She can wait for the queen and sit for tea, wait for the day when she will marry the prince, wait for answers that will never come.

"Where is Mael?" she asks instead.

Ludoshel pulls his hand away. "Mael is on assignment from Her Majesty."

"What assignment?" demands Elizabeth.

"That is not something to concern yourself with," he replies through gritted teeth.

Elizabeth looks over at Tarmiel, who has been watching silently. The goddess' three faces do not change as they gaze back at her. "Why can't I know?" Her eyes go back and forth between the two. "You ask me to pray for their safety, and I do whatever you ask. There are things I don't understand and I need to—"

"Princess, you don't need—"

"I do!" she practically shouts, catching them off-guard. "I need to see the queen, _now_." For the first time, she draws on her title, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breathing. "Either call her here, or take me to her."

The seconds tick by as Ludoshel stares at her. But Elizabeth does not flinch.

"No," he finally says.

Elizabeth draws back in surprise. "What?"

"No. You will not be seeing the queen." The neutrality of his face morphs into a hard disgust. "You will go back to your room and you will not leave it again."

Anger wells up inside her chest, and she feels a strange tingling along her skin. "You cannot order me," she breathes. "I'm the princess."

"You are a little girl," Ludoshel practically growls at her. "A stupid little girl with no power." He takes a step towards her, and Elizabeth cannot help but flinch away. "You can return to your room and do as you're told, and perhaps the queen does not need to know the very depths of your betrayal. Or, I can throw you out of here and you can go find that demon husband of yours you seem to want so badly."

Elizabeth gasps, heat flooding her face. To her absolute mortification, hot tears spring to the corners of her eyes and burn her throat. She turns and flees the smirking goddess, nearly flying back to her own chambers. This had been her first battle for her own life, her own independence, and she is defeated.


	8. Chapter Seven: The City of Flames

**Chapter Seven: The City of Flames**

 _Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice.  
From what I've tasted of desire  
I hold with those who favor fire.  
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To say that for destruction ice  
Is also great  
And would suffice._

— _Robert Frost_

Meliodas withdraws to his section of the royal palace. Weeks have passed since he accepted the task of discovering the goddess clan's weapon, and all that he has is a set of clues that do not fit and no sure answers.

He sits for hours and thinks, writing down notes, going over every last detail. He knows the goddesses are manipulating the demons somehow. He knows that only the upper ranking goddesses know about the weapon. He knows that it must be hidden somewhere, or with someone, because it has never been seen.

Yet his thoughts are jumbled, making him agitated. Adding to his frustration is a new complication: namely, Princess Elizabeth. The girl had been not at all what he was expecting, not that he had expected _much_. Someone beautiful, assuredly; also haughty, conceited, looking down on him and his clan. Someone who wished to seduce him, perhaps, or show off a bit of power to try to intimidate him.

Elizabeth had been none of those things. Beautiful, yes, but in a natural way, her eyes enrapturing him from the start. Her face, her lips, her body like a dream, and as the days went on his desire for her grew, something that had long been dormant inside of him since he first discovered pleasure with another. Some of the demons can enjoy having a goddess, but he always had felt it was beneath him; nothing more than a base perversion. Who would want a stiff and unyielding statue, beautiful to look at but cold and hard to the touch?

Something told him that Elizabeth would be warm, and soft, and when she spoke he could almost hear the sighs she would make underneath him.

Even more than her body, she had been so _innocent_. Meliodas had thought it a trick at first, her way of disarming him. It seems impossible, but he believes that the princess had been fed a lifetime of lies about the war, and had little to no knowledge of Britannia or any of the other races. This news should be pleasing to him as it would make her more susceptible to manipulation, but instead, it fills him with disgust.

How could this reality even exist? How could the queen's own daughter know _nothing_? Was this girl even really the Supreme Deity's flesh and blood? Perhaps she is a changeling, he wonders. It would explain why she is so different from the others.

And yet he is intrigued by the idea of marrying her. Marry this girl who cannot fight, who cannot rule, who could not survive without her pearls and her tea served in pretty china. Meliodas would have called his father an idiot to say that Elizabeth is worthy of being his wife. He sighs to himself. That girl would not last a day in the demon realm.

He should have just killed her; just taken her head off there in the hall, left it as a wedding gift. He should have called for the demon army and attacked the gate like he had planned, he should have walked back into the Celestial Realm and annihilated every last one of them.

 _Will I see you again?_

Those words, so sincere as she called after him, echo in his head. Why? Why did she wish to see him again? Does she still? He thinks of how he had deliberately provoked her, bouncing between a rude guest to inquisitor to the role of haughty prince, all to keep her off-balance. Yet she had answered him directly, and had not withered under his gaze. _That_ was a feat few beings could boast.

Why did she ask that? Surely she had been shocked by the fight, surely he had dribbled blood on her pristine white tablecloth. Yet that did not disqualify him from her life.

The hours go by and he has no answer to either what the weapon could be or why Elizabeth intrigues him so much. So Meliodas decides to get some air, leaving the demon realm to return to Britannia. It is late evening, the sun low on the horizon, about to slip away until the dawn, and he has the entire world stretched before him. But nothing interests him now, not food or drink or sex, not power or war or beauty, not riches, not pain, not pleasure. The world seems empty.

Meliodas takes to the air, flying towards a destination unknown. The air is cool, and he is thankful for that at least. It feels good against his heated skin, and for a moment he considers finding a lake or a waterfall for a brief swim. But then lightning in the distance catches his eye, and he takes off.

Landing on the poisoned ground, Belialuin is just as he had left it days before. The earth is still scorched, the air is still thick, the fires of Purgatory still rage in the streets. A spark of curiosity fills him, and Meliodas begins to walk the perimeter of the city. He is on a bit of a rise and can see the destruction below him, and slowly he makes his way along the edge to watch and observe.

There is life in Belialuin still, despite the curse it is under. It is a remarkable thing, but he is sure of his assessment. Yet the city had held some talented mages, so he supposes it is not completely out of the realm of possibility. But surely the people know they cannot hope to defeat the demon king or his flames.

 _Hope_. Meliodas ponders this annoying habit of the humans.

Footsteps draw him from his thoughts. He turns to see Zeldris approaching. "What are you doing here?" the younger demands.

"I didn't come to fight," Meliodas responds, his eye on where Zeldris is clutching the hilt of his sword. "I came to have a proper look."

Zeldris snorts, but lets go of his weapon. He walks to the edge to stand next to his brother, and the two demons do not speak for several minutes as they watch the inferno.

"It seems the king has done well to appoint you executioner," Meliodas finally says.

"The task is not one I take lightly."

He looks at Zeldris, still staring straight ahead. "I would never think that," he jokes.

"Does this mean you are back?" Zeldris asks as he folds his arms. "Your disappearing acts are annoying."

Meliodas huffs. "Am I ever really gone? There is no leaving the demon clan."

"Perhaps not. But you do put Father in a temper."

Now the demon laughs out loud. "Some things can't be helped." He eyes his brother and says, "Are you really angry because I have a decree and you do not?"

"No," answers Zeldris quickly. He glances at Meliodas, who raises an eyebrow in question, and Zeldris sighs. "I don't want one. I would never want to be tied down by such rules. It's a limit of power as much as it is an expansion."

Meliodas tilts his head, considering this. "Besides," Zeldris continues, "he would never let all three of us become Commandments. So one of you would have to die."

Snorting he says, "Wouldn't you like that. Then you could become king."

Zeldris presses his lips together at the idea, so Meliodas prods, "Don't deny it. You would take my claim in a heartbeat."

"I _would_ make a better king than you," he mutters sullenly.

The demon grins, pleased to have won this round on his brother. "Besides," Meliodas says gaily, "if you become king, you get to marry the Supreme Deity's beautiful daughter!"

"I don't want that either," Zeldris replies with a growl.

Meliodas crouches down, pressing his hand on the soil. He can sense the magic that flows through Britannia, cycling through his own veins and feeding the dark nature that is intuitive and natural. The heat of the fire is present as well, and he considers going down there to feel the lick of the flames on his skin. It had been a long time since he had gone to Purgatory; Meliodas wonders if it would still hurt.

He picks up a handful of dirt, turning over the sooty material in his hand. "What do you want then, Zeldris?" he asks.

No answer comes, and he peers at his brother curiously. But Zeldris stands as he usually does, his arms folded and frowning at the flames.

Several more minutes pass in silence. Meliodas stares at the fire, his mind empty. Too many pieces are at play, and he is unused to this unbalanced state of mind. But the fire is soothing in its own way, at least in its familiarity. Even the presence of the one next to him is calming, as reluctant as he is to admit it.

A shift in the air catches both of their attentions, and Meliodas stands. The two demons focus on the source as Zeldris mutters, "What is it now?"

He peers into the fog, pressing his senses out. They touch something that gives him a jolt of recognition. Instantly his heart starts to beat faster, his blood pounding in his veins. "I'll take care of it," he says sharply, striding away, ignoring Zeldris calling behind him, "Where are you going?"

The feeling grows clearer as he approaches, until he sees what he had suspected. Crouched on the ground is a figure with silver hair and white wings, coughing and clutching her arms. She is dressed in a simple tunic and leggings, very unlike the formal dress she had worn in the Celestial Realm; had they not met before, he may have mistaken her for any common goddess. Meliodas is surprised, despite his suspicions, pausing briefly before continuing his approach.

The princess rubs at her eyes, taking a first tentative look around. He can hear the horror in her gasp as she takes her first glimpse, her eyes widening in fear as she takes in her surroundings. A hand flies to cover her mouth, and the goddess falls forward, sinking down to sit on her legs, propping herself up with the other hand.

Carefully Meliodas says, "Elizabeth?"

She looks up, her eyes bright and shining. "You! What are you doing here?"

"I would ask you the same." He walks forward slowly until he stands before her. Meliodas looks down with a cold expression as the goddess gazes up at him in shock and alarm.

"Where am I?" There is a tremble in her voice as she stands, her arms tightening around herself. The demon notes again how different she seems now with her hair blowing erratically in the wind. No jewels or silk today, no pleasant tea to enjoy in the afternoon.

Meliodas tries to keep the smile from his face. "This is Belialuin."

Her mouth opens in shock as she whirls, her eyes darting around the destruction. "How is this possible? This can't be Belialuin, this _can't_ —" She turns back to Meliodas, visibly shaking as she steps away. "What did you do?"

Meliodas sighs. Her naiveté is getting old. "It's nothing _I_ did, princess. I told you I met Mael here, didn't I?"

"Mael?" she whispers, shaking her head in disbelief. "Mael knows about this?"

He does not answer, suddenly a bit uncomfortable. There is something in the tremble in her voice that is taking the fun out of this discovery. But he had missed his opportunity last time to gain information, so he asks, "What are you doing here?"

"What you said, about this place… I couldn't stop thinking about it." A blush forms on her face, and Meliodas wonders if it is the heat or embarrassment. "You said there was an amazing city here, and that there were changes. I didn't understand, so I wanted to see for myself."

"Meliodas!" Zeldris' voice calls from the direction he had come. "What did you find?"

He curses under his breath before looking at Elizabeth, whose expression is still fearful. _Good._ "Say nothing, and do nothing," he tells her, and her eyes snap to his. "Do not try to run from him."

She gives a clipped nod, and Meliodas turns. "Nothing that concerns you, Zeldris."

But his brother has already seen, and is glowering at the girl behind him. "Is that a _goddess_?" he growls. "What is she doing here?"

"This is the princess I was telling you about," he replies, keeping his voice easy.

"The princess!" cries Zeldris, who halts in his approach. Meliodas would normally be pleased over his brother's shocked expression, but the situation is too ridiculous, too dangerous.

Then the demon's brows draw down. "What is she doing here? What are you talking to her for?"

Meliodas folds his arms. "And what would you have me do? Kill her? I'm sure the king will be pleased to hear his executioner took on such a risk. He will enjoy hearing that you murdered the daughter of our enemy and my future bride." Zeldris huffs in annoyance, so Meliodas continues, "Well? Go on then, if you want her head so badly."

"You're an idiot," he snaps.

Smirking, Meliodas glances at Elizabeth. "Well, princess? You came for a look. I'll show you around."

She blinks rapidly, pushing her hair back from her face. "With… you?"

"That is Purgatory fire down there. You won't survive without me." Meliodas cocks his head to the side. "Unless you're going back? You came all this way and are too scared to follow through?" he chastises. "How disappointing."

Elizabeth takes a deep breath before nodding. "Yes, I will go."

Meliodas can sense how furious Zeldris is, but does not care. Now that the princess has agreed, he will take her inside the lost city and show her exactly what she has been missing all these years. With any luck, her mind will break, and he'll be able to pull out whatever information he wants. His lips curl into a cruel smile as he offers his arm, and the goddess places a trembling and tentative hand on him.

Sparks erupt under her touch. It is exciting to feel the little jolt under his skin, but Meliodas decides to ignore it. He takes off in the air suddenly, gripping Elizabeth around the waist and pulling her taut against him. She screams in her surprise, her nails digging into his arms where she manages a grip. Moments later he lands inside Belialuin, his energy forming a shield around them from the heat and poison.

Elizabeth is gasping to catch her breath, so Meliodas chuckles as he waits to release her. However, he finds holding her more than pleasing. She is surprisingly light in his arms, the feathers of her wings brushing the backs of his hands that are planted firmly on her back. His eyes go down the white slope of her neck and fall on the ample breasts that are pressed against his bare chest, and slowly he slides his hands around her waist and down her hips. She is just as soft as she seems, her curves enticing, and his hands continue their path until they circle around her rear.

He pictures her again in his bed, on his desk, against the wall. If he marries her—when he marries her—Meliodas will enjoy doing just this. But then the pictures evolve: Elizabeth sitting with him at dinner, Elizabeth standing next to his throne, Elizabeth holding his child, the next king of demons.

"What are you doing?" she gasps, pressing on his shoulders and snapping him back to the present.

Her squirming makes the game more fun, so he squeezes her body. "You're to be my wife, Elizabeth," he teases. "Soon you will belong to me."

She makes a noise of disgust and pushes him away, taking several steps back. "Don't touch me," she whispers to him.

Meliodas grits his teeth as he meets her angry stare. He has half a mind to show her right here, right now, exactly why _no one_ tells him what to do. But this will turn into more trouble than it would be worth, probably, so he struggles to dampen his temper. "Let's go," he commands, but grabs her arm for good measure, pushing her through the city.

Most of the buildings are only shells now, their structures crumbling under the heat of the fire. Those made of stone or possibly receiving protection under a charm remain somewhat intact, but are covered in soot and ash. The sky is black from the smoke, the glow of orange outlining the homes and buildings; the ground is cracked rock and covered with rubble from collapsing walls and roofs. There is debris scattered everywhere, but that is nothing compared to the bodies that lay propped in the streets. Piles of men, women, child stare at them as they walk by, their eyes empty and accusing, their mouths open in silent suffering. Most are dead, by the lack of energy, but some are still hanging on in agony.

Elizabeth cries out and tries to pull away, but Meliodas holds her steady. _She will see this_. He is suddenly angry with her and her damn prejudices and her ridiculous innocence. He does not know why he cares, why anyone such as _he_ would ever think about what a _goddess_ thought, but for some reason he does and he will _make_ her see. He will show her what the world is truly like. Elizabeth will know what the goddesses are capable of doing, that they are more alike than she realizes.

The goddess stumbles a bit as he pulls her along, hearing her whimpering as she looks around. Meliodas debates whether he should do away with the protective shield; he would not be harmed, and neither would she, not right away. But this way she could truly feel the heat and breathe the stench and choke on the poison in the air.

"Please," she cries, pulling in his grip again. He glances back to see tears falling down her lovely face, and he is glad. "Please, can't we—we have to do something!"

"Do what, princess?" Meliodas draws up short, forcing her to face him, the fingers holding her arm tightening. "Our gods have decreed this punishment. It is _their_ doing. Would you stand alone against the king of demons and the queen of goddesses?"

Her swollen eyes look at him in guarded apprehension. "Are you saying my mother did this?"

"This, among others."

She shakes her head. "I don't believe it." Elizabeth goes from trembling to shaking, and she wails, "I don't believe you!"

Meliodas watches with some amusement. She is starting to break, which is exactly what he wants.

As if on cue, a lightning strike begins. Both look up to see the power of the goddesses crash into Belialuin on a white bolt of power. It destroys another building, rubble flying everywhere, the sound nearly deafening. Shockwaves rock the city, and Elizabeth is at once clutching at him and trying to flee, her screams of terror turning hysterical.

When it is over, he lets her go, and Elizabeth drops to the ground in a heap. She falls forward, her hands digging into the broken rock, as her shoulders shake from her sobs. Meliodas watches in curiosity for several moments. He has seen people cry, and scream, and beg before; but not one such as she, her wings hanging limply behind her, her shining hair shielding her face, her legs drawn up underneath of her as if to hide from reality. The sound of her voice wraps around him, heavy with sorrow. Her hands press against her stomach as the goddess retches a bit.

He wants to see her face, to see her eyes as she falls to pieces. So he kneels on the ground, peering around the silver curtain of her hair. Meliodas watches as tears fall down her nose, but this is all he can see; his hand reaches up to tuck her damp hair back behind her ear.

Elizabeth looks up at him, her eyes red, her cheeks flushed, her mouth turned around choking sobs. "Why?" she pleads. "Why would she do this?"

Then, she reaches out and puts her arms around him, burying her face into his neck.

Meliodas is frozen. Never once has anyone sought comfort from him. His skin suddenly feels too tight, hot and itchy, and he swallows around a lump in his throat. After everything she has seen, this girl wants comfort? If anything, he thinks as her tears soak into his skin, _he_ should be the one seeking solace. Elizabeth has sent the demon who feels nothing on a foray through anger, curiosity, lust, amusement; he can barely keep up with the conflicting sensations. Now she is clinging to him as if her life depends on it, and Meliodas is uneasy to realize he must hold himself back from touching her, the urge to hold her close and offer his protection sharp and insistent.

She turns her head, sniffling a bit. Her lips brush his skin, feeling like little shocks against the prickling sensation dancing in his veins. "How could she do this?" she whispers.

He closes his eyes. Her breath feathers against him, causing his stomach to tighten. If he didn't know better, he would say this goddess is doing this on purpose, and that makes him angry. At once he grips her shoulders and pushes her back, watching as Elizabeth blinks in surprise at him. "Get a hold of yourself," he says hoarsely.

Nodding, she looks to the side. Meliodas is curious to see she does not wipe her tears away; instead they fall freely in rivers on her face, little crystals that sparkle on her flushed cheeks. "Do you know why they did this?" she asks him.

"You trust the word of a demon?" he replies mockingly.

Elizabeth's eyes dart to him. "You are the only one who will tell me the truth," she admits. "Whether you lie now or not, it will be more of an answer than I would get from anyone else."

He considers this, and then decides on the truth. There is no need to lie if he can help it, after all. "The people are being punished. One of their own defied the gods. She tricked them both into giving gifts of great power, and then broke a promise."

"It's wrong," she says quietly. "This is wrong."

"Wrong or not, it is their judgment," answers Meliodas.

Elizabeth rises on shaky legs, and Meliodas stands with her. "Take me back, please," she says, the trembling in her voice less noticeable now. "I've seen enough."

He nods, taking her by the waist again; instead of fighting him, Elizabeth curls into him, placing her head on his shoulder. What is this goddess thinking? Is she truly this innocent? The question grates on his nerves, but before he can go she bolts upright. "Do you hear that?" she says, eyes wide. "Someone is here!"

"There are survivors in the flames—" he begins, but is cut off when she dashes away, towards a home that has half collapsed.

With a growl Meliodas follows, climbing over a pile of brick to enter the house. Elizabeth is crouched by a little girl, her clothes torn and singed, her dark hair dirty. Her eyes are closed and her chest is rising and falling in ragged breathing as the goddess speaks soft words. He watches as her hands begin to glow, and she pushes back the girl's hair, stroking her brow.

He wonders what that would feel like, on _his_ forehead.

Shaking his head he steps forward. "Let's go, leave her," he demands. "She's dead anyway."

Elizabeth does not answer; instead, she scoops the girl into her arms. "She isn't dead," the goddess insists. "I'm taking her with me."

"Why?" he cannot help but ask, disbelieving.

She narrows her eyes at him. "What happened here is wrong. If I can save this one child—"

"You are a fool!" he snaps. Meliodas points his finger at her and growls, "This isn't a game! The king and the queen have sentenced these people to die. And you would defy their word for one little girl?"

Elizabeth is startled, but then squares her shoulders in defiance. "Yes," she says, her voice hoarse with emotion. "The least I can do is this."

"Then you can do it on your own," he says darkly.

The goddess calls after him, but Meliodas ignores her as he stalks out of the home, readying himself for the flight out of the flames.

Outside of the building he finds Mael. The archangel is staring at him venomously, his wings spread wide and his golden eyes darkened. "Where is the princess?" he demands.

"Get out of my way," Meliodas snaps.

Mael holds out a hand, a ball of light beginning to glow in his palm. The demon smiles to himself; a fight would feel good now. He needs to work out the aggravation from dealing with Elizabeth and focus his energy on destroying something. Everything from the past weeks since his return—his fruitless search for this weapon, the incompetence of the others, finding Belialuin in ruins, the meeting in the palace, and now the uncomfortable mix of emotions that are because of that _goddess_ —boils inside of him and is ready to spill into violence.

The archangel looks over his shoulder, and Meliodas feels the goddess approaching. "Mael! Stop this!" she cries.

He snuffs out the light and turns his attention to her. "Your Highness, come away right _now_ —"

"Did you do this?" she demands, pushing past Meliodas. She still carries the girl, holding her against her shoulder. "Did you kill these people, destroy their homes? Did my mother order you to do this?"

Meliodas recognizes the malicious intent in the archangel's eyes, even as his voice is calm. "I'm taking you back to the Celestial Realm."

"No!" Elizabeth clutches the girl tighter. "You lied to me! You've all been lying to me!"

Mael grits his teeth. "Lady Elizabeth—"

"I said no!"

"Elizabeth."

Meliodas' voice cuts through her hysterics, and she turns to look at him. "Will you help me?" she pleads. Her eyes water as they connect to his. "Please?"

This is a mistake, he knows it is a mistake. Helping her, for what? Nothing good will come of it. He will only earn the wrath of his father and the goddesses, probably trigger a hundred years of war for kidnapping the princess, and be guilty of sedition for defying the king's orders.

But the fury on Mael's face makes it all worth it.

"Come on," he says, and snatches Elizabeth up by the waist. Then they take to the sky, fleeing into Britannia together.


	9. Chapter Eight: Choices Made

**Chapter Eight: Choices Made**

 _when it came to listening  
my mother taught me  
open heart and silence_

 _when it came to speaking  
said it is not done with the mouth  
but through thought and patience_

 _when it came to choosing  
said be thankful and willing  
for choices were the one thing  
she never had the privilege of making_

— _rupi kaur_

Elizabeth is trembling when they land. The sun has gone down beyond the horizon, the land bathed in shadow so at first she sees nothing. Not that the goddess would recognize anything; once more she tastes the bitterness of never having left the palace before.

"Can you stand?"

It's barely a kindness, but at least Meliodas does not drop her. She is still holding the girl tightly against her chest, her slight body beginning to feel like a weight in her arms. Her legs are wobbly and her nose is running and her cheeks hurt from the wind, but Elizabeth manages to stand. His hands are strong and firm on her waist, which helps to steady her. "Thank you," she whispers.

His eyes are black, and the darkness pins her. It is difficult to read Meliodas, but Elizabeth is somehow certain there is no hatred towards her. Frustration and a bit of anger, certainly, yet behind it a tinge of concern that she would have never thought even capable of a demon.

 _Where are we? Am I safe? What have I done?_

Looking around, the goddess sees that the ground is covered in grass, clipped low, and uneven. Trees surround the area, but not thick as she imagines a wood should be; there are no other signs to tell her where they are. Elizabeth had studied maps of Britannia and knows many of the landforms and cities contained within, but she rapidly realizes how little good that is to her now. "Where are we?" she finally asks, her voice hoarse from the flight and her stomach still rolling.

She does not really expect an answer, and Meliodas offers none. Instead he walks off in silence, leaving the princess to hurry after him with the girl still cradled against her shoulder. Several minutes go by as Elizabeth struggles to keep pace, her legs and shoulders starting to ache from carrying the girl and hurrying over the uneven ground. They continue for another minute or two until they step through a cluster of trees and onto a little cottage, the windows bright and a curl of smoke coming from the chimney.

Elizabeth reaches out and grabs the back of his coat. "Where are we?" she demands, giving him a tug.

The demon pauses and looks over his shoulder. "Somewhere safe. Or would you rather take her to the Celestial Realm?"

His tone is severe but Elizabeth is still grateful. "No, I'm sure it's fine," she answers.

He leads her to the door and pushes it open without knocking, and Elizabeth steps inside. It is cozy enough, and her eyes go wide as she looks around such an… _ordinary_ home, she assumes. There is a fireplace burning low, a bit of mismatched furniture, tables, curtains, some shelves with books, cabinets under a sink. A rug on the floor and strange art on the walls complete the room, the air feeling a bit stuffy and warm, the scent of wood and bread and a hint of ash clinging to her. It reminds her of a picture book of human stories. "Is this… your home?" she asks tentatively.

Meliodas gives a derisive chuckle. "Gowther!" he calls, startling her. "You have guests."

A moment later he emerges, and Elizabeth is in a second shock when a handsome young man enters; but instead of walking, he sits in a chair that moves on its own. She blinks several times, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her, as the man looks her over as well. "It's a goddess," he pronounces.

Meliodas gives a snort that is not entirely without humor. "Astute as always. Are you alone?"

"Of course." The man is staring back at her, examining her just as closely as she is peering at him. But she simply cannot stop staring at how he maneuvers across the floor. Finally he takes pity on her and smiles. "Yes, I know it is an odd sight to see. One of my own inventions."

He pats the arm of the chair and Elizabeth shakes herself. "Yes! Of course! How rude of me!"

The man nods and then turns an expressionless gaze to Meliodas. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I need a favor from you." Meliodas nods over to the goddess, continuing, "This girl has been poisoned and needs a safe place to recover. Her own magic will revive her but then she will be a wanted little girl. I need you to watch her for a few days."

"How interesting." Gowther wheels a bit closer to take a look before his eyes dart up to meet Elizabeth's. "And who might you be?"

"This is Elizabeth," the demon answers for her. "The daughter of the Supreme Deity of the goddess clan."

Gowther has the good grace to look shocked for a moment before he throws his head back and laughs. "My goodness Captain! You do make things interesting!"

His laughter goes on for a bit as Elizabeth becomes more and more uncomfortable. She shoots Meliodas a questioning look, but the demon simply watches with his same unamused expression. Finally she cannot take anymore and inquires, "Are you a demon?"

He coughs to cover the end of his laughter. "Not exactly."

"You're a… friend of His Highness?" Elizabeth's eyes jump curiously. Do demons have friends?

"I'm not exactly that either," he replies, his voice deep and soothing. "He is my captain. I am Gowther, the Selfless, of the Ten Commandments."

"The… The Ten Commandments." Her voice comes out broken, and in shock she takes a step backwards, nearly dropping the girl, who makes a noise against her arm.

"I see you have heard of us," Gowther says gravely, shooting Meliodas another look.

And now she sees _it_ as well: there is a dark mark on his brow, the outline coming into view as the ink rises to the surface, and Elizabeth is shaking in fear. The reputation of the Ten Commandments is well known, the whispers of the monsters who possess the magic of the Demon King himself, the ones who can lay waste to entire sections of Britannia, who can command the demon army, who can annihilate goddesses.

The weight of what she has done threatens, causing Elizabeth to go pale. She trusts Meliodas, but should she? And what of the other demons? Perhaps the prince is an anomaly—one that is standing by the doorway, blocking her exit as she stands alone in the home of a strange demon.

"No need to fear, princess," Gowther says gently, and then gestures behind her. "The girl looks heavy. Why don't you lay her down here?"

Elizabeth hesitates, but there is nothing to be done; it is impossible to escape even if she knew where she was or where else to run. Besides, her arms are aching, so slowly the goddess lowers her onto the cushion of the chair, carefully setting her head against the overstuffed arm. She kneels on the floor, pushing the dark hair from the sleeping face, and sighs.

Gowther wheels up and picks up her arm, pressing his fingers onto her wrist. "Who is she?" he asks.

"She is from Belialuin," Elizabeth says softly.

"Belialuin!" She looks up to see Gowther peering over his shoulder. "Isn't that the place—"

"Yes," Meliodas cuts him off.

Elizabeth watches as the two Commandments exchange a glance, and then Gowther drops her arm. "If she's been poisoned, I'll need to work quickly," he says, his voice clearly showing his agitation.

He wheels away, disappearing into the next room, and Elizabeth turns back to look at the girl. She is beautiful, or would be, once the grime is washed away and her skin returns to a healthy color. She traces her fingers along the too-thin arm, her thumb rubbing gently on a streak of dirt near her wrist. Leaving the palace grounds for the first time in her life had been terrifying, yet somehow so thrilling. By going to Belialuin, the goddess had felt as though she was living her own life for the first time. She was taking her first steps towards the truth. Despite the potential danger of being on her own and the risk of drawing the wrath of her mother, it had been exciting, her first chance to explore Britannia.

Elizabeth thinks of that horrible place, the heat and the choking air and the crash of lightning. It was worse than she had ever imagined. The bright, shiny city of science and magic had been levelled, its streets piled with bodies, the very air a poison to breathe. She squeezes her hands into fists against the cushion of the chair, trying to keep from getting sick at the memory.

 _How_? How has the girl survived? How can anyone hope to survive that?

 _This isn't a game! The king and queen have sentenced these people to die._

Elizabeth shudders. It is easy to believe the demon king would order such an awful punishment. But the goddesses? Her own mother? Tears spring to her eyes, and her chin drops to her chest. Soon they are flowing silently down her cheeks, landing on her shirt, her shoulders trembling with the effort to keep quiet. Her skin crawls with the memory of the poison gas and the soot in the air and she wishes desperately for a wash, or maybe somewhere to sit and hide for the remainder of her life.

Her mother has lied about everything. She is not the savior and protector of Britannia Elizabeth had been taught; she is as capable of cruelty as any demon. Mael's presence in the midst of the destruction proves this. She has seen her mother's version of punishment with her own eyes.

Her head begins to pound, with black stars appearing in her vision. At once it is overwhelming, too much, _too much_ to think about. She remembers her mother's smile, the glowing light of her hair, the strong but soothing voice. The queen has been her light her entire life. A life that has been a lie.

 _One day you will be queen, and you will understand the sacrifices I make for you._

"No," Elizabeth chokes, her hand covering her mouth to stifle the sob that nearly escapes. If she is to be queen, must she do such terrible things as well? She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing herself to stay in control. As queen Elizabeth may have to pass judgment, may have to lay sanctions on the guilty. But no crime is worthy of such a terrible fate. Her mother may be the queen, but she is _wrong_.

The idea is terrifying; if the Supreme Deity is wrong, then what is the truth? What is right? The world spins for a moment as Elizabeth considers this new reality. Demons are vicious, evil, filled with hate and darkness, who revel in death, who kill. But if the goddesses are the same, then… what is the difference? What can she to believe, anymore?

 _More lies. Do goddesses even know how to tell the truth?_

Then there is the prince. The beast of darkness she had imagined has told her the truth, as harsh as it has been; he has challenged her, but not spoken down to her; he has protected her and helped her and Elizabeth can barely process why. Her future husband, that her mother has tasked her to marry so she can discover their secrets. Elizabeth's head is throbbing now, her skin soaked with tears that are finally slowing. How can she do this? How can she face any of them, again?

Meliodas says something behind her, but she pays no attention, her eyes lifting to the little girl that she has saved. The consequences of her actions have not even begun to process for the princess, but she knows it is worth it all. Elizabeth feels relief at having saved one life.

"Be well," she whispers to the girl. Gently she presses a hand to her forehead, brushing back her dark, stringy bangs. "Be well. Heal. You are safe."

She closes her eyes, and Elizabeth does what she has always been taught to do in times of strife: she prays.

The goddess begins to murmur her wish, her lips working rapidly. "Bring life to this girl. Let her heal. Let her live." With a shaking breath, Elizabeth folds her hands together. "Goddesses are light. Goddesses are grace." Familiar warmth bathes the skin of her palms, her breathing slowly as she focuses on her words. "Please accept my light." The blessing flows through her veins and crackles under her skin. "Please heal."

"Elizabeth." Meliodas' voice snaps her from her murmuring, and she blinks in surprise. Her hands are shaking and there is sweat on her neck, her throat dry, her temples feeling pinched. Elizabeth turns her flushed face at the girl, and is shocked to see she is awake. Two golden eyes stare at her in fear and wonder, panic just around the edges.

"You're safe," she says in a rush, moving to take hold of the girl's shoulder. Elizabeth cannot help the little laugh that escapes her, eagerly smiling down at the girl as she traces her fingertips over her cheek. There is a faint glow around her hand, which Elizabeth finds odd, but then the girl begins to tremble violently. Soothingly she strokes her hair, trying to calm her.

Gowther wheels up next to her, making a noise when he sees the girl awake. He places the bottles he collected on a table and takes up her arm once again. "That's a powerful healing magic you have, although it's not surprising since you are a goddess."

"I… never used it before…" Elizabeth looks at her hands, and then back at Gowther. "Will she live?"

Gowther clears his throat and turns back to the girl. "She'll be fine," he assures Elizabeth, placing the girl's arm gently down. "She just needs rest."

Elizabeth blinks at him, shaking her head slightly. "You are… kind," she murmurs.

He stares back at her for a long moment, and then wheels back. "Captain, a word?" he says, and Elizabeth glances over her shoulder to see the two speaking quietly to one another.

"Who are you?"

Elizabeth turns back in surprise. The girl makes no indication that she spoke, but the tiny voice had been unmistakably a child's. "I'm Elizabeth," the goddess says gently. "You're safe now."

The girl said nothing further, but her eyes searched Elizabeth's face. Then they darted behind her, tracing the shape of her wings; once more fear makes them go wide, the girl quickly looking away.

What to do now? Elizabeth would normally ask one of the goddesses, perhaps call for Ludoshel for guidance. Of course that is impossible now, and again she feels deep shame for her ignorance.

But something is awakening inside of her, and the piercing in her heart that aches from the betrayal of her clan turns bittersweet as she gazes at the girl. Elizabeth has saved her life, and vows silently to do everything in her power to keep her safe. Now that the girl is rescued, the princess feels as though she is her personal responsibility. She promises to herself she will see the girl happy, healthy, and free from the fate of the others in Belialuin. If she can do this, Elizabeth reasons, then any consequence for herself for leaving and defying the gods will be worth it all.

So she stands on trembling legs and walks across the room to where the other two are speaking in hushed voices. "Your Highness," she says, thankful that her voice does not shake. "Thank you for all you have done."

They both look at her: Gowther simply curious, as if taking notes in his head, but Meliodas looks angry. "You realize the danger we are all in now."

"I'm sorry," she answers sincerely. "I never thought—"

"We defied my father and your mother. We saved a soul that was condemned to die. And worst, that prick _Mael_ saw us doing it."

Elizabeth swallows at his harsh language. "I know."

"You _know_?" The demon steps towards her, and instinctively Elizabeth steps back. "Was this your plan all along? You wanted to set me up?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Meliodas looks as surprised as she feels at her own outburst, but Elizabeth shakes it away. "I didn't _plan_ any of this! I didn't know, I didn't—" A traitorous blush flares over her cheeks, tears threatening behind her eyes. "I didn't know," she whispers harshly. "You said things had changed, not that it was—destroyed."

Meliodas considers this for a moment before folding his arms. "How did you get out of the Celestial Realm?"

"My friend Jelamet helped me," confesses the goddess. "She helped me slip away from the palace, and showed me the way to Britannia."

His eyes narrow suspiciously. "And did not accompany you? I find that hard to believe."

"I needed to do this on my own," she replies firmly. "I wouldn't put her in danger."

"But you'll put me in danger," he retorts, but Elizabeth notes the little twist in the corner of his lips, the tiny sliver of amusement in his tone. "Word of what you have done has certainly reached the demon and goddess realms."

Elizabeth hangs her head. "I'm sorry," she says again. "I will take responsibility for this. I will… speak to the king myself if I must." She lifts her determined gaze to him, her shoulders squaring and and her chin lifting defiantly. "But I don't regret going. I needed to see that. I needed the truth. And I needed to save that girl."

The house is silent for a moment, something unspoken passing between the goddess and demon. Then Meliodas tilts his head as his stance relaxes a bit. "Now what is your plan then?" he asks. "Don't tell me it actually includes standing before the king of demons."

Elizabeth wrings her hands together. "I don't know," she admits.

The last thing she wants to do is ask for help, unsure of what he would say or do in reaction. Yet his eyes remain sharp on her as he turns towards Gowther. "Keep her here, and keep her hidden. I will be back before dawn for the goddess."

She gasps in surprise, but before she can protest, Meliodas is gone. Nervously she looks at the man in the chair, her heart pounding as he leans back in his chair. "Do you take tea, Your Highness?" he asks with a slight smile.

* * *

Meliodas finds Estarossa lounging in his room. The body of a human is slumped at the end of the bed, her clothes removed and her eyes empty, blood running along her arms and in her hair. There is another on the floor in a similar state that Meliodas steps over as his brother scrambles up. "Sorry about the mess," he says sheepishly. "I wasn't expecting you to—"

"I need a favor," replies Meliodas, cutting him off.

Estarossa nods grabbing up a shirt and pulling it on. "I need you to go to Belialuin and watch the situation there," he continues. "Don't enter, don't engage, and don't let yourself be seen. If you see movements among the goddesses, or you see Mael leave, I want a report immediately."

"Of course," he replies. "Can I ask why, so I know what to look for?"

"No." He looks around at the two bodies before glancing back at Estarossa. "Is this what you do in your spare time?"

The demon stiffens. "Just a bit of fun. I was hungry for a couple of souls."

Meliodas snorts before taking his leave. It seems in the years he had been gone, Estarossa's newfound enjoyment in killing had taken on a bit of dramatic flair. He doubts the king cares, if he even knows; as long as Estarossa continues following orders, nothing else matters.

He heads to his own quarters and immediately pours himself a drink. There are few pleasures to be found in the demon realm, but the alcohol is one of them. Much stronger than that the humans consume—he smiles to himself thinking of what would happen if one tried their liquor, and makes a mental note to try it sometime—one will settle his nerves. The goddess and her ridiculous choices have set him more on edge than he would care to admit, and after a few gulps of the dark amber liquid, Meliodas feels as though his control is returning.

He settles in a high-backed chair and reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a magic orb. Gowther had given it to him before he had left, so he could observe the interrogation he ordered of the princess.

With a few muttered words she appears in his view, looking tired and worn. Meliodas smirks a bit to himself, wondering if she is in shock. The princess is quite beautiful, breathtaking really, to a point that nearly makes him uncomfortable.

As much as Meliodas longs for something to interest him, he does _not_ want that thing to be Elizabeth.

Yet he studies her face, her body, the crisp white wings now dulled from their journey, the simple clothes that somehow make her look even more enticing than the formal robes and jeweled necklace from their first meeting. Had this been another life, if he was something other than the heir to the demon realm or she had been something other than the daughter of his enemy, then he would not have hesitated in taking this beauty and keeping her for his own. Even her innocence is intriguing instead of irritating, and Meliodas can see himself showing her the world, experiencing it through her eyes. It would be something… different.

But that is not to be, can never be, so he pushes those thoughts away and tries to focus on the task at hand. Elizabeth knows something about the weapon, he is sure of it.

He had watched her as she murmured over the girl, feeling the power that emanated from the goddess in that moment. It had been remarkable, and Meliodas contemplates it now. During their meeting in the Celestial Realm he had not felt anything special about her, yet as she healed the little brat her power level grew exponentially until it rivaled any of his Commandments. For the first time he understands why his father may have chosen Elizabeth to be his bride.

Yet as soon as she stopped, it was snuffed out like a flame. How can this be?

Meliodas takes another long sip of his drink. Perhaps her power is only activated by her emotions. Elizabeth had wept like a child over the girl's body. He had watched with lips curling in disgust at such a ridiculous display, even wondering if she was trying to influence him with such emotion. But the suspicion had felt wrong immediately. Just as the last time they had met, he is certain Elizabeth was sincere.

An hour goes by in silence, the only movement in the air the draw of the liquid into his mouth. As the minutes pass, Meliodas grows more and more uneasy. His father should have summoned him by now, and when Meliodas ignored it, sent either Chandler—or someone much less friendly—to fetch him. Yet there is no indication within the demon realm that anything is amiss, which means either one of two things.

Either Zeldris and Mael are covering up the goddess' actions in Belialuin, or his father knows and does not care.

The glass makes a thud as he sets it down on the table. Exactly sixty minutes has passed since he returned to his father's compound to wait for his wrath. Meliodas does not like to be wrong, and likes surprises even less. For the first time, he wonders if it is possible that he is just as ignorant to the king's motives as Elizabeth is to the queen's.

* * *

Elizabeth lifts her head to find a hand in her line of vision, offering a handkerchief. Gratefully she accepts it, glancing up in embarrassment at Gowther. "There you are," he says kindly.

"Where did His Highness go?" she asks as she takes the little square.

"Meliodas went to see if the fallout from your excursion would be swift," Gowther explains.

Elizabeth nods as she wipes her eyes. "You are very familiar with him," she remarks.

The demon gives a little chuckle. "Demons are not much on formalities. Not as much as goddesses, I imagine."

Not knowing how to respond, she looks back at the girl, who is now sleeping. "Her name is Merlin," Gowther says. "She is the one who caused all the trouble in Belialuin."

 _Trouble_. As if that is any way to describe what she has seen. "How could one girl bring about such horror?" she asks.

Gowther shifts in his chair. "She has an ability that both clans wish to use. The queen and the king each gave a gift, and after accepting them, she declined to join either side."

Elizabeth remembers when her mother's hand had tightened so fiercely in her hair when she hesitated to agree to marry the demon prince. If she had refused her, would she have met a similar fate to this girl? She shivers at the thought, and then another comes: if the king and queen both cursed Belialuin, that means that they had worked… together.

"Is there even a war going on at all?" she muses aloud.

"Yes," Gowther answers, startling her. "Although what they fight _about_ changes as often as the seasons."

Elizabeth frowns. "Aren't you a part of the demon race? Your loyalty is with them?"

He shrugs and settles back in the chair. "My Commandment compels my obedience, but there is no love for the demon king. I am a sorcerer, princess, not a warrior."

She wonders at his words, but Gowther offers no further explanation. Elizabeth looks back at Merlin, thinking how he is one more mystery, one more thing she has had wrong about the world.

"If I may ask, Your Highness… what was your real reason for going to Belialuin?"

Elizabeth eases down to a sitting position, her hand grazing over Merlin's arm. "I needed the truth. I needed to know if—if he was telling me the truth." She squeezes her eyes closed for a moment. "So much has changed in such a short period of time… I found out I was to marry the demon prince, my mother was… different. _He_ was different."

The princess looks up at Gowther, who is looking at her oddly. "I've been taught my entire life that demons are cruel and liars and destroyers. Yet Meliodas was none of those things. And then my own—my own _archangel_ —" Her head drops, and Elizabeth is grateful that her tears do not rise. "Everything I knew was a lie."

"Not necessarily." She snaps her eyes up sharply. "You know very little of Meliodas. Believe me, princess, if you heard half the stories there are to tell, then you would fear him."

"No," she replies, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I can see his strength. I can see… he can be cruel. But he was the first one to ever tell me the truth. And for that, I'll be forever grateful."

Gowther looks thoughtful, as if considering her words. "Are you worried?" she asks. "Will you face the king's wrath for helping me?"

Shrugging, the Commandment gives a little chuckle. "Princess, I am already bound to an interminable life of servitude. What more can the king do to me?"

His bravery is only partially to be believed, she is sure, but Elizabeth smiles anyway. Of course the king can think of more cruelties, but deep down she agrees: a life of compelled service is a punishment already. "Well I will help in any way I can," she assures him.

Gowther shifts a bit in his chair. "May I ask about your healing powers? You said you had never used it before, yet you healed this girl as well as any mage or sorcerer."

Elizabeth shakes her head. "I don't know. I've never done it, but I've never needed to heal anyone before."

"Would you show me?" He gestures for her to move closer to where Merlin sleeps and says, "Can you show me what you did? Perhaps I can help you to understand it."

"I… I just… did what I normally do, when I must help."

"And what is that?"

The goddess moves back to her knees, ignoring the ache in her legs and the stiffness in her hips. "I was just like this, and I press my hands together like this—" Elizabeth presses her palms together, closing her eyes, "—and I speak my wish for peace. I offer my strength to others, and pray for the strife to end."

He does not respond, so after a moment, Elizabeth opens her eyes and peeks at him. Gowther is nearly expressionless, but his eyes are sharp, tracing over the outline of her form. "Very interesting," is all he says.


	10. Chapter Nine: Tell All the Truth

**A/N:** Much thanks to Galfridus for the help in getting this chapter together. :)

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Tell All the Truth**

 _Tell all the truth but tell it slant,_  
 _Success in circuit lies,_  
 _Too bright for our infirm delight_  
 _The truth's superb surprise;_

 _As lightning to the children eased_  
 _With explanation kind,_  
 _The truth must dazzle gradually_  
 _Or every man be blind._

 _—Emily Dickinson_

By the time Meliodas returns to Gowther's home, he barely cares about the goddess or the child. The only thing on his mind is the lack of his father's summons. He is aching to return to Belialuin for himself to see the consequences of their actions, but he knows the agitation he feels now will only devolve into violence. As much as he would enjoy that, he has enough wits remaining through the roiling emotion to know it is not a smart move.

He walks into the front door unannounced, finding a sight he had not expected. Gowther, the goddess, and the little girl are all sitting around his table, having what looks to be a pleasant conversation. The adults sip from mismatched teacups while the girl drinks greedily from a glass of milk in one hand, a hunk of bread gripped tightly in the other.

All three turn when he enters, and the demon stares at them blankly as he pulls up short. Then the spell is broken as he frowns, suddenly suspicious of their little party; at the same time, Gowther gives him a slight incline of his head and greets him, "Captain."

Elizabeth quickly stands, her eyes wide on him. "Your Highness! Are you alright?" She hurries around the table, coming up to him and examining his face closely. "You look as though you have seen some trouble. What happened with—"

"What is this?" he growls, grabbing her by the arm and cutting off her question. "You are all having a good time I see, while the demons and goddesses work against us."

Elizabeth's hand flies to cover her mouth, but Gowther gazes back at him with a reserved calm. "Nothing like that at all, Sir. We were simply feeding the girl so she has the strength to travel. Did you discover anything?"

Meliodas scowls as he examines the goddess. She has not tried to break from his grip, but looks back at him in a mixture of alarm and embarrassment that he hates. He lets her go, striding around the table slowly.

"So this is the girl that has caused the destruction of an entire city," he says, his lips curling a bit in a cruel twist. "The girl that will most likely be our own destruction as well."

He positions himself across the table from the little waif of a child, staring down at her. She shrinks back in her chair, her trembling hand dropping the bread, her amber eyes wide and filled with sharp fear. _Good_ , he thinks. _She should be afraid_.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth's voice sharply rebukes him. She hurries to stand behind her chair, one hand carefully taking the milk from the trembling girl and setting it safely on the table. "She's just a child. She is not at fault."

"Not at fault!" Leaning forward, Meliodas rests his palms on the table as he snaps, "This girl defied the gods. The two most powerful beings in existence. In their infinite mercy, they decided to punish only Belialuin and not all humans for her deception. Tell me again how she is innocent."

Elizabeth is trembling now, her hands positioned comfortingly on the girl's shoulders. "Her name is Merlin," she says.

Meliodas gives an irritated huff. "What are you talking about?"

"Her name is _Merlin_ ," Elizabeth says again, her tone going colder, her voice rising in volume. "Her name is Merlin and she is a child and I will _not_ let you harm her."

The sheer determination on her face startles him enough that Meliodas stands up straight. There is a moment where they stare at one another, the air thick with tension, and he considers the change in the goddess. She is now as proud and strong as any from her clan; but hasn't she always been this way? He thinks back to the girl he met just days ago, who served him tea and rebuked him for refusing a seat, who stood between him and harm, who seemed to understand him.

 _What is happening?_

"Captain," Gowther says slowly, "perhaps if you hear the girl's story you will understand better. I am not convinced that the reports we received are true."

Meliodas clenches his jaw, folding his arms over his chest. It would not be out of the realm of possibility for the king's verdict to be justified with lies. Yet that would make no difference. "Whatever her story is does not change the fact that she has put us all in danger." He looks up at Elizabeth sternly. "That _you_ have put us all in danger."

It looks for a moment that she will retaliate with some insult or another; she surprises him again by softening, her gaze turning pleading. "Please," she says quietly, "just hear what she has to say. Then you can decide what you want to do. If you want to leave us to whatever fate my choice will bring, then I accept that. I take responsibility for her regardless."

He watches as Elizabeth pulls a chair closer to the girl, sitting delicately and turning to smile. "It's all right," the goddess assures her. "You are safe here, I've promised you that."

The girl looks at Elizabeth, obviously still frightened. "Who is this?" she whispers.

Elizabeth rub her back soothingly. "This is the prince of the demon clan. He is the one who saved us. He brought us here."

As she returns her attention to him, Meliodas swallows thickly. Her eyes are piercing, as if they can see inside of him, and it leaves the demon more than unsettled.

"Enough of this!" Truly annoyed now, he slams a fist down on the table. "Tell me what you know."

The girl jerks in alarm, so Gowther begins, "Merlin is the daughter of the former tribe leader. He passed away not long ago after some of his experiments. Perhaps you are familiar with the one who faced the king?"

"The one who…" Meliodas frowns as he remembers. There was a human who had entered Purgatory, a story that Estarossa had told him eagerly when he had returned to the demon realm. He only lasted a few seconds, but the disturbance in the place of souls was so astonishing that the king himself had gone, the last time his father had taken a step from his throne. "That was ten years ago," Meliodas mutters. He looks questioningly at the girl. "The man who went to Purgatory, that was your father?"

She hesitates a moment before nodding. "Then you must be very powerful to have _his_ blood in your veins." Meliodas gives a dark chuckle. "No wonder you had the nerve to stand before the gods. Your father did something no human had ever dared to do, and now here you sit, having passed him already."

He considers the rebuke a kindness, a compliment even, but the girl's eyes grow damp. "My father died," she whispers sadly. "I tried to save him, but I just made things worse."

"Save him?" Meliodas' gaze darts to Gowther. "What happened to him?"

Gowther shifts in his chair, but the look on his face is one Meliodas recognizes. He is enjoying the mystery of this, excited for something to solve. "As you can imagine, a mortal in Purgatory did irreparable damage to the man. His body began to die." Gowther nods towards Merlin and continues, "She tried to use her power to save him. And it did delay his death, but could do nothing to actually heal his cursed body."

"What power could she have?" he snorts.

"This little girl is imbued with a fair amount of magic, even at her age," Gowther says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Reminds me quite a bit of the stories told of another powerful one."

Meliodas grits his teeth. "Do not mock me. Never compare me to a mere human."

"This human has a remarkable ability," Gowther argues back. "It is called _Infinity_."

" _Infinity_." Meliodas thinks for a moment. "So she has the power to make a curse infinite."

"Or a blessing. Or any other magic." Gowther nods slowly as he observes the possibilities beginning to dawn on Meliodas' face. "You can see now why she was of such interest to our king."

"They wanted to use her!" Elizabeth interjects. "It was wrong."

He looks at her sharply. "Fool of a goddess," he hisses. "Do you not even understand this much? Do you know what this girl could do?"

"I won't." All three pause their discussion to look at Merlin, who has finally spoken. Her voice is sharp, clear, her expression stern and defiant. "I won't use it. Not for them. Not for anyone."

"But you did, didn't you?" Meliodas charges. "You used it on your father."

The misty tears finally begin to spill, making the girl look even younger and more pathetic. "I tried," she whispers. "I wanted to heal him, to give him forever life—but I couldn't stop what the demons did to him! He made me—he asked me—" She bows her head as her body shivers. "I took it away. So he could die."

"The demons did nothing to him." Merlin snaps up, gaping at him, and Meliodas glares back. "Your father brought his own demise. No mortal can go to Purgatory and live. He knew what would happen, and his hubris was too great."

"No," Merlin cries. "No, he—he didn't know!"

The demon laughs. "Impossible a great mind like his was unaware of what would happen when he dared to mess with the demon race—"

"Meliodas," Elizabeth whispers.

The sound of his name gives him pause, and he looks at her.

Is this the first time he has heard it? It is different. Odd. Wonderful. The lilt of her voice, the way her lips move to form the sounds of his name. Like a prayer and a curse.

Inside his chest burns, and he feels… _weakness_.

It floods his senses, leaving a warmness that makes him feel _alive_. The goddess stares at him, her eyes so bright they nearly glow. What is this madness? Elizabeth gives a little shake of her head, a small reprimand for his ranting at the girl. Immediately he is filled with a confused shame, an apology rising on his tongue that is only extinguished by clamping his mouth shut.

The strongest demon in an age is in chaos over the whisper of a goddess.

He shakes himself abruptly. "It will be dawn soon," he says. "I'm taking you back."

"You can't!" Elizabeth also stands, her hand firm on the girl's shoulder. "You can't take her back there, she—"

"Not _her_ ," he growls at the goddess. " _You_."

Elizabeth opens her mouth as if to protest, but then quickly shuts it. Ignoring whatever thoughts or opinions she may have, Meliodas nods to Gowther. "I'll leave the girl in your care. I'll send word with what to do with her. Speak of this to no one."

"Understood, Captain," responds the Commandment, who looks more than pleased with the assignment. "I'm sure Merlin and I will get along well."

"And of the other thing?" he says. "Did you get the information I asked you to get?"

Gowther clears his throat. "No, Captain. We were distracted by—"

Meliodas does not bother to respond, merely stalking to the door and throwing it open. He strides back into the night, the sky pitch black, the trees covering any starlight that might exist. Moments later he hears footsteps running to catch up to him and the heavy panting of his companion. "Wait! Please wait!"

Ignoring her again, he continues on, until a hand takes hold of his arm. He pauses mid-stride, long enough for Elizabeth to move in front of him, hearing her heavy inhale and exhale as she catches her breath. "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you back," he responds simply.

The fingers curled around his arm dig into his skin, distracting him. "Back? To where? To… Belialuin?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snaps, yanking his arm away from her touch. "You belong in the Celestial Realm. You said yourself you never leave." Meliodas takes a step forward, forcing her to take a step backwards. "Does mother know you have left? Did she take some time out of killing innocents to notice her daughter missing?"

Meliodas notes the catch in her throat and grins to himself. But before he can order her on, Elizabeth responds in a tight voice, "Must you be so cruel?"

He wishes he could see her face better. Her features are shaded by the dark, and all he can make out without activating his powers is the shape of her outline and the dull glint of her silver hair. "Call me cruel if you must," he replies. "If it will make you feel better, call me any name you wish. But the truth is cruel, goddess. Go looking for it and you will feel its bite."

"I still don't understand," murmurs Elizabeth. "I don't understand what is happening. I don't understand what I saw tonight. I don't understand why I—"

He raises his brows curiously as she hesitates. "Why you what?" he prompts.

"Nothing," she whispers, looking away.

Her behavior is difficult to comprehend; even more difficult to comprehend is why he wants to understand. This entire night has gone to hell itself and back, and the agitation of it all makes him want to put his hands around something and _twist_. That is what Meliodas would normally do, anyway. Yet the desire to understand her, as unexpected as it is unwelcome, overrides his instincts… _just as the demons had during battle._

The connection unsettles him even more. Meliodas watches her for a moment before asking, "What is it you want?"

He can sense she is looking at him now in the dark. "Why?" Her voice is soft, the caress of a breeze. "Would you give it to me, if I asked?"

"How predictable," he chuckles menacingly. "You would use your bridegroom to your advantage so soon?"

"If you find me so detestable, then why are you so eager to marry me?"

The response is like a spark, her voice containing an edge of challenge that is new and exciting. "Who says I have consented?" he argues.

"You did." She tilts her head and shuffles a bit closer. "In Belialuin, you called me the wife of the demon king's son. Before you defended me."

An uncomfortable heat rises on the back of his neck. "That meant nothing," he hisses.

Another silence stretches between them, this one more awkward, before he grumbles, "Come on then."

Once more Meliodas steps around the goddess and continues to walk back through the trees, until they can get to a space open enough to take off in flight. Elizabeth falls into step behind him, and he catches himself listening for her footfalls, waiting to hear her stumble or for a change in her heartbeat that would indicate fear or alarm. The images he had had of the goddess rise unbidden in his mind, of Elizabeth standing with him at the throne, serving as his queen, his hands splayed over her stomach where life has sparked. It is utter nonsense, but he allows them to linger before dismissing them.

* * *

The flight back to the gate to the Celestial Realm is not as frightening as the journey from Belialuin. Once more Elizabeth holds onto the demon's shoulders as he grips her tightly against him. She could have flown herself, and considered suggesting it. But his foul mood keeps her silent.

The princess finds herself blushing when his hands slide around her, unsure of how to hold him, his breath against her cheek for an unspeakable moment before he shoots into the air. Meliodas holds her against his chest and thigh, one arm around her back. His hands are firm on her hips, and Elizabeth is never afraid of falling. His strength and power is evident, especially so close; she can practically feel it crackling underneath his skin. It is alarming to be held so closely, and his clothing does nothing to cushion against the hard rock of his muscular form.

The wind rushes around them as they fly, her hair that has fallen in pieces from her braid flowing outward in the wind. The night is cold, particularly in the air, so reflexively she presses against him, turning to press her frozen face into the curve of his neck. Meliodas makes no sound, refusing to speak to her; but Elizabeth feels how his pulse pounds against her cheek.

No one has ever been so forward with Elizabeth; other than a brief kiss on her hand or the offer of an arm, she has had little physical contact with anyone since her youth. She remembers as a child being held and soothed by the nurses, and the occasional brushes of her mother's fingers on her cheek that felt like paradise itself. But Meliodas is… Strength. Protection. Power itself. Being held against him makes her think, _this is what it must feel like to ride on the back of a dragon_.

When they touch back down to the ground, Elizabeth takes a moment to gather her breath. Her legs are a bit wobbly from the flight, so she leans her weight against him, never once questioning that he can bear her weight. His hands stay solid against her form as Elizabeth breathes slowly in and out, in and out. Her breath feels warm as it pushes against his neck and back against her own lips. So focused on her own shakiness, she misses the slight intake of breath that comes from the demon.

The stars are visible here, the first streaks of color coming from the horizon far off. She blinks as she looks around, the surroundings still strange, lights glowing from behind her and illuminating his face. It is as grim and callous as ever, but one she is learning well, their eyes connecting for a brief moment.

"We are here," he says, his voice deep and quiet, cueing Elizabeth to stand upright.

Yet he keeps his grip on her, and she holds him in turn, the two looking at one another for a long moment as bright and dark eyes connect. Elizabeth wonders if the pools of ink that stare at her so intently are always such a color. Is it possible that if his demon nature was gone, she would see eyes of hazel, pearl, amethyst?

They are caught in the moment, just the one moment, but it is enough to thread the needle that will begin to weave a connection between them, so subtle neither knows it is happening, so quiet neither feels the tug until they pull apart.

Reluctantly Elizabeth drags her eyes away and looks around. She is startled to see the gate to the Celestial Realm. "I could have gone back on my own," she whimpers.

"No." The word cannot be mistaken for anything but the command of a king. "They must see that I've returned you, safe and sound. Otherwise the penalties for _both_ of us are far worse."

She does not quite understand, but Elizabeth still nods. "If that's what you think is best." She turns to him and traces her gaze over his face, stoic and expressionless. "Thank you for everything."

"Do not thank me yet." Is that a hint of amusement in his voice? "You still must face the goddesses, and I must face the demons."

"Will you be alright?" she asks.

Meliodas frowns so deeply that Elizabeth must stop herself from laughing at his obvious confusion. Then he grumbles to himself under his breath. "For once in your cursed life, will you think of yourself? Don't bother to worry about me. Care for your own hide for once."

He meant to chastise her, but Elizabeth feels more caring than shame. "I'll try to remember," she answers gently.

There is an awkward pause as both try to think of something else to say. They are less than a hundred meters from the gate, and Elizabeth can hear goddesses approaching to see who has come to the gate. Meliodas turns to go without a word, but she grabs his arm, stopping him.

The demon pauses, but does not turn around. "You said not to thank you," says Elizabeth, "but you saved my life, as well as Merlin's. You could have left us both but did not. I am in your debt."

His eyes dart over his shoulder as his head turns slightly. "It is dangerous business to be in debt to a demon," he warns.

Elizabeth knows she should be afraid, but cannot summon any fear. Slowly she releases her grip on his arm. "Nevertheless, I am indebted to you. If there is anything you need, anything I can do to help you, then—"

"Actually, there is something, goddess." Meliodas turns to face her, but then his eyes dart behind her. "The soldiers are nearly here. But I have a favor to ask of you." He glances up at her as Elizabeth's eyes widen. "Will you meet me tomorrow at sundown?"

"Tomorrow!" Elizabeth is filled with sudden panic. It is bad enough that she snuck out once—when she returns to the palace she would not be surprised to find half the army as her guard. "I don't know, I—meet you? I don't—"

"Sundown tomorrow. You owe me, goddess."

Dazed at the idea, she nods. With that confirmation Meliodas begins to walk away, but then she calls, "Where?"

"Come to Britannia and I will find you," he answers, and then is gone.

Elizabeth is still staring at the stars when the guards arrive. "Your Highness!" one calls in shock. "You were missing! We've been looking everywhere!"

She drops her eyes to the ground with a sigh. "Yes, I imagine so. I'm sorry."

"Come with us, princess," another commands. "We have orders to deliver you straight to your room."

With a final glance to where Meliodas had gone, Elizabeth follows the guards towards the portal. The light is warm and familiar, enveloping her as she steps through, and the goddess is filled with the sensation of _home_.

But when the light falls away, so does the warm feeling. The palace is tense, the servants hurrying through the hallway, guards everywhere, whispered voices replacing the usual conversation and music. Silently the guards follow her to her room; their footsteps make a clicking sound on the marble floor as they get closer and closer.

When Elizabeth arrives, her stomach drops. Her door is open.

The guards leave without a word, and Elizabeth is left to enter. She imagines it will be Mael, or Ludoshel, there to give her a reprimand, perhaps a threat or two. Nothing prepares her to find the queen herself on the other side, sitting perfectly in one of the overstuffed chairs that dot the room.

"Elizabeth," the queen smiles, gesturing her to come further inside. "I'm delighted to see you."

Tears spring to her eyes instantly; fear surges through her veins, causing her to shake. Cautiously Elizabeth steps forward to accept her fate. She thinks of the cruel twist of her mother's fingers in her hair, the future she demanded of her, the sacrifices the queen spoke of making. Her mouth goes dry as Elizabeth pauses to go into a deep curtsey. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and her eyes squeeze shut as she waits for the release to stand.

"Look at me," the queen says.

Her fists clenching, Elizabeth gathers her courage and stands straight, keeping her shoulders back the way she has always been taught, her chin raised, her eyes slightly downward. But the trembling makes her body ache, and she must press her lips together to keep her teeth from chattering, from letting out the sob and the plea and the scream that are swirling in her chest. _I'm sorry—You lied to me—Forgive me—How could you—Who are you—Who am I—_

"I know everything, Elizabeth."

The princess nods, blinking rapidly as her skin flushes with shame. "Your Grace, I—"

"I'm not interested in your apologies," her mother says. Her tone is sharp, but soft, and that is more frightening than if she had raged. "Nothing you can say will change what you have done."

Elizabeth nods. "I will accept whatever punishment you deem fair," she whispers.

Images of Belialuin go through her mind, the pale and frightened child she had found in the destruction, the choke of the air as she sobbed in the dirt. Elizabeth squeezes her fists even tighter, wanting to say something, do _something_. But what? How can she hope to stand against the queen's wishes?

Besides, she had disobeyed her. She had invited a demon into their realm. She had left without permission and stolen away a human that the queen had sentenced to die. Elizabeth knows she deserves some form of discipline.

The queen stares at her for a long moment before speaking. "Punishment," she finally murmurs. "As if a punishment would erase what you have done. As if that would excuse any of it."

"Mother," Elizabeth pleads, lifting her gaze to meet the Supreme Deity's. Never has she seen a look like that on her face, her graceful features accentuated by the sheer iciness of her glare. For a moment, Elizabeth is in awe of her, her beauty both entrancing and terrifying. But the goddess pushes past her fears to quickly go on, "I know it was wrong to invite the prince here, and to leave without your permission. I should not have done so, and I am sorry. You must understand, after you told me I'm—I'm to marry him—I was—"

The queen's expression does not change as she speaks, leaving her faltering for words. "I needed to meet him," says Elizabeth softly. "And when I did, he told me—Mother, I must know!"

Her heart is in her throat as she looks at the queen directly. "I went to Belialuin, Mother. I saw the destruction there, and I know that our clan has been a part of it. I heard about the girl that defied you." Now that she has spoken it aloud, Elizabeth begins to crumble. Tears are streaming down her face, and her voice is shaking, but determined she continues, "Is it true? Did you do that to those people? I would never have believed it, but then I saw Mael there and—"

Elizabeth is knocked to the ground with one swipe of her mother's hand. The slap across her face echoes through the room, her skin on fire, and with a gasp of pain she clutches at her cheek, now burning under her touch. Wildly she spins on the ground, staring up at her mother. The queen stands over her, the same terrible, stunning expression on her beautiful face: dreadful and majestic, all at the same time. _Goddesses are light, goddesses are grace_ … the old rhyme echoes in her head, and Elizabeth thinks: _the queen has never been so breathtaking_.

"Don't you dare speak his name," her mother practically spits at her.

Beyond frightened now, Elizabeth lets out a sob. But it is cut off as the queen's powerful hands wrap around her neck and begin to squeeze. She tries to choke out a plea for mercy, but the queen only gives her a shake. Her hands fly to her mother's arms, trying to push her off, but the Supreme Deity is unmatched in strength. Her heart is racing and her blood pounds, her eyes watering in pain as she thinks this is the moment of her death.

Through the haze of fear and agony her mother's face remains stoic and regal. The queen places her thumbs against Elizabeth's throat, pressing painfully. Her eyes begin to close on their own, and her mother's voice, calm and quiet, floats towards her as she claws at her arms. "Did you think yourself clever, you little bitch?" the queen hisses. "Did you think if he came here, you would show off a bit, and become the queen on your own terms? You're _my_ daughter, Elizabeth. _Mine_."

Her body is screaming for air, but all Elizabeth can do is whimper. "You dare to question me, question my punishments? All while running around Britannia with those disgusting demons. Did you send the enemy to rip out his heart once you bedded the prince? Did you whisper in your lover's ear that he should kill my angel?"

Elizabeth's eyes fly open, the goddess struggling to speak, trying to shake her head against the grip on her neck. "What—what—" she tries to say, but all that comes out is a wheeze.

"He killed Mael." A single tear falls from her eye, and Elizabeth watches as it trails down her mother's cheek. "You killed Mael."

At once she releases her, and Elizabeth collapses on the floor, coughing and gasping as her lungs receive the much-needed air. The horror of what she has just learned— _Mael is dead?_ —draws a wail from the princess as she curls on the floor, shaking violently.

"You will never leave this room again," the queen declares, looking down at her with distaste. "Not until the day I deliver you to your vile husband. Then you can become the queen of that clan of monsters, and once you give me the information I want, you can let your wicked soul be devoured by the king. It is more than you deserve."

Without another word the queen sweeps from the room, the door banging shut and locking behind her with a deafening clang.

Elizabeth does not know how long she stays curled on the floor, but eventually her sobs end and her breathing quiets, and slowly she sits up. She looks around in a daze, tired and hungry and devastated, until her eyes fall on the little silver box on its place on the shelf.


	11. Chapter Ten: The Warrior

**Chapter Ten: The Warrior**

 _O, sir, content you;  
I follow him to serve my turn upon him:  
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters  
Cannot be truly follow'd._

— _William Shakespeare_

Before he reaches the demon realm, Meliodas can sense death. There is discord somewhere inside, and when he arrives at the compound that serves as castle, training ground, and fortress, it has erupted into a violence not seen in an age. The concentration of power from the demons gathered in one spot draws his attention, and swiftly he flies towards it. If there is an uprising, he will crush the traitors without a thought.

So when he arrives and sees his brothers engaging in deadly combat, he freezes.

The ground is broken and a portion of the building is in pieces; the air itself is choked with the dust and ash of the rubble. Demons of varying levels and position stand around to watch, some in horror, some in excitement. Yet this is no squabble among brothers, or a show of the strength of the king's sons. There are even three Commandments present, who watch as if to keep anyone from intervening.

Zeldris has the same scowl he always wears. He grips his curved sword in his hand, stepping to the left, looking for the right moment to strike. His energy is pulsing with rage, but it is tightly wound, coiled inside of him to use as fuel for his magic. Zeldris is nearly glowing, his clothes and body tinged with the dark purple and black power.

Meanwhile Estarossa's power is explosive, pressing outwards as if to consume everyone and everything in order to gain advantage. Meliodas notes how he is dirty, disheveled, dried blood on his coat and his own sword covered in blood. He sends a blast of _Hellblaze_ at Zeldris, who dodges it easily. Estarossa is obviously intending to harm Zeldris, but what the younger is planning, Meliodas cannot make out immediately.

Yet they will destroy one another and a sizeable chunk of the demon realm if left to continue, so Meliodas swoops down to intervene. A moment before he lands both brothers look up, and with a growl the prince sends his own powers rushing outwards to capture them. The two are trapped inside of his dark magic as it curls around them and constricts like a snake. His huge sword appears in his hand, but he sticks it into the ground as a warning before drawing the two closer.

"This ends," he says.

Slowly Meliodas releases them, both of his brothers panting on the ground as they regain their breath and composure. "You disgrace this clan and your titles with your meaningless wrath," he chastises them. "And now you've—"

"This doesn't concern you, Meliodas!" Zeldris shouts. "The disgrace is Estarossa's. He has defied the king's orders."

Meliodas frowns—who ever heard of Estarossa breaking the rules? He narrows his eyes as they shoot to his brother. "Is that true?"

Estarossa smiles, and the look in his eyes leaves him unsettled. He thinks back to the bodies that were discarded in his room like empty glasses of wine. "Zeldris has me on a technicality," he admits, licking his lips.

There is obviously more to this story, so Meliodas orders the rest to disperse. He turns and walks into the castle, his brothers following his unspoken summons. The demon takes his sword as he passes by, slinging it onto his shoulder, the heavy weight a welcome familiarity in this night of unpredictable events.

Yet the pit in his stomach grows. Whatever has happened must be connected to Belialuin. No one knows Meliodas had sent Estarossa on the errand, and he wonders if his brother has revealed his task, and why Zeldris has left his post. The answers are sure to be nothing but trouble, so with agitation he leads them into the Great Hall outside of the throne room, where he will have space to dispose of them both if needed.

The demons who are awake to serve scurry out, knowing their place is not in the presence of such gods. Meliodas strides to the center of the hall before turning to take in both brothers. "Estarossa," he begins, "what did you observe in Belialuin?"

Only the tiniest bit of surprise registers on Zeldris' face, just a little flicker of the brow; but it is enough, and Meliodas is certain Estarossa has not said anything. Then Zeldris returns to the scowl, aiming it at _him_ this time.

"Nothing." Despite his obvious agitation, Estarossa's voice is business-like as he answers his captain. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

" _You_ sent him?" Zeldris shouts. "Why would you do that?"

Meliodas turns and begins walking towards the throne room. A moment later he feels the air shift a fraction, and steps out just in time to avoid being sliced by Zeldris' sword. He reaches out a hand, ready to summon his own again, as Zeldris bares his teeth. "What did you _send_ him for?" he yells. "Do you know what he did?"

"I don't care," replies Meliodas.

The rage is crawling up Zeldris' neck, and the demon watches in a bit of amusement as he keeps himself from allowing his hate to bloom. "You should care if you are going in there." Zeldris jerks his chin in the direction of the door. "Whatever you wanted has destroyed everything."

Meliodas sighs. "Don't be so dramatic." Glancing at Estarossa he asks, "Fine, what did you do?"

"He killed the archangel!" Zeldris shouts, not even letting his brother open his mouth. "This idiot got himself _caught_ and when Mael confronted him, he cut out his heart."

Blood pounds on the inside of Meliodas' head. He recalls their first and last confrontation, and his parting words— _"the next time you see him, you have my full endorsement to reach inside his chest and rip out his heart"_ —make the memory bitter.

"It was self-defense," Estarossa says defiantly. "He attacked me."

Meliodas clenches his fist. He wishes nothing more than to kill them both right here in the hall. "You let yourself be seen," he snaps. "After I ordered you to be discreet."

"Then you share the blame in this!" Zeldris hollars. "Belialuin was none of your business! Even you should know that this will be nothing but more fuel towards the war!"

"Enough." His voice carries in the chamber, the threat on them both clear. Meliodas glares at Estarossa. "You are sloppy and let your petty rivalry get the better of you. As far as I'm concerned, you failed in your mission." Estarossa's jaw visibly tightens, his face draining of the color it wears from fighting, but Meliodas darts his eyes at Zeldris. "And you. I don't care about your orders or your archangel or anything else you want to blame on me. Belialuin was your responsibility. And from what I observed, _anyone_ could come or go as they pleased."

It is the younger's turn to bristle, but neither answer as Meliodas leaves. They can fight each other for all he cares. Now he only wants answers.

The demon enters the throne room without waiting for an announcement. Inside he finds the familiar sight of the king on his throne, surrounded by simpering advisors. The room is filled with chatter that ceases when he shouts, "I need to speak with the king. Get out."

Everyone freezes, but no one moves. Meliodas sends a pulse of his magic in dark waves, tendrils curling from his body that act as whips. They move in lightning-fast streaks towards the demons that quickly scatter, one or two feeling the sting of his power as it leaves lacerations on their skin. Soon the room is empty as the last doors bang shut, and the prince turns his gaze to the hulking, silent mass that sits like a dark shadow on the throne.

Meliodas allows his power to remain filling the room with black stripes, keeping it firmly controlled by his will. He approaches the dais with deliberate strides that echo as his feet fall on the gray stone of the chamber. "I want answers," he says as he glares at the shape of his father.

The king, meanwhile, has yet to say a word; not even the scurrying of his servants had won his eldest son an acknowledgement. This irks Meliodas more than a rebuke—as if he can be ignored, cast aside! He stops at the bottom of the steps and looks upwards, unconcerned with the height advantage it gives the king. "Will you not speak?" he demands. "I said I want answers."

There is a long pause as they both wrestle for mastery of the moment. His father has no choice but to answer, Meliodas knows this for certain. No one could sit idly by as another asserts his will in their home, least of all a king. He knows his actions are childish and unnecessary, but has there ever been another way to garner the attention of the king of demons? He stares into the sunken eyes that disappear into the darkness, the black holes small and deep above the withered face and the wild beard that hang below. The king's power coils around him like a mist, covering the rest of his body. Whatever is underneath, whether the muscled body of a warrior or the shivering frame of an old man, Meliodas is determined to see his father stand this day.

"Do you not hear me?" he laughs darkly. "Tell me father, are you deaf or a dotard?"

He is answered at once with the force of _Hellblaze_. Meliodas sees it coming and reacts immediately, calling _"Full Counter!"_ as he pulls the shortsword hanging across his back in the seconds it takes to reach him. The blast from his magic meeting the king's actually sends him skidding backwards, but the prince remains on his feet, looking up to glare at his father. The demon king has not moved at all, still staring downwards as if asleep. His attack did not harm him, even when sent back in a tenfold assault by the prince's ability; instead it disappears as it is absorbed back into the inky mass.

"I _said_ , do you hear me, father?" Meliodas shouts. "I am here for answers, and you will tell me what I want or—"

Another attack, this one stronger, and Meliodas reacts without difficulty. He manages to brace himself and keep his feet planted, his clothes and hair billowing behind him with the force of the magic hurtling through the air. There is no one alive that could see with bare eyes the speed of the attack and counter-attack; this is the power of two gods facing one another, and the act is sending Meliodas' skin tingling in an exquisite way.

He opens his mouth and another blast of the _Hellblaze_ comes. This time the king has the sense to split it into pieces. Meliodas moves quickly to meet each one, but two make it through, slamming into the prince with the force of a thousand soldiers. He grunts at the sudden pain, the pressure making his bones creak, but his own innate strength keeps his body from breaking. When the spell dissipates he is left panting and bruised, but whole.

Meliodas laughs. "The might of the demon king is weak in his old age. Your ears are intact and your magic still works; perhaps you're just craven?"

That receives a bit more reaction. The blasts of magic come fast and furious, and Meliodas finds himself fighting with effort now. The _Hellblaze_ is sent back at the king again and again, tearing into the stone and jewels of the room, leaving pockets of the floor and ceiling ruined. The demon grins as he works, countering the magic with an unmatched speed, avoiding those that whip by before he can swing his sword. Still the king takes no damage, but that does not dissuade his work. His only goal is to survive with the answers he wants. Whether his father lives or dies is no concern of his.

 _That isn't true_. It isn't, not entirely. If Meliodas kills the king then then throne will fall to him, along with the tedium of ruling a realm. The others will look to him for decisions in all things. It is more work than he is willing to give, as he prizes the freedom being a prince gives. He will need to take a wife and secure an heir or else his own head will be sought as a prize, and that means dealing with this marriage business—something he still does not know if he wants.

That sliver of unsurety gives the king the opening he needs. With a renewed vigor he sends dozens of dark bolts straight at Meliodas, who cannot hope to keep them at bay. They strike his body like white hot steel, driving into his flesh with an agonizing sear that scents the air with the smell of burning flesh. Meliodas finds himself pinned, the tendrils of dark magic holding steady as if they were truly blades, so the prince takes the chance to catch his breath, ignoring his limbs that are screaming in pain.

His hair clings to his face and neck with sweat and blood. It stings his eyes and his wounds as he struggles a bit, his limbs shaking with his efforts. Meliodas looks up with a smirk, determined not to show even an ounce of weakness—after all, the pain is nothing to the satisfaction of making his father _try_ to kill him—but he nearly falters in his resolve when he sees the king is standing.

One hand is covered with a grotesque iron gauntlet, the other holds a sword that no one could lift. The king takes a step down, then another, his footsteps echoing into the throne room for the first time in a decade. The castle seems to groan with the act, but still Meliodas cannot be intimidated. Instead he calls out through gritted teeth, "Father, you didn't have to get up."

"Why are you here?" the king says. It is stronger and surer than their previous conversation, and Meliodas hardens his eyes. "I did not summon you. You are not ready."

"I want to know your plans," Meliodas says threateningly. "No more games. No more tricks. I want to know why I was promised to the queen's daughter. I want to know why you are waging a war while allying with your enemy. I want to know why your demons live and die for your glory if you have sold us all to the goddess clan."

The king regards him for a moment as Meliodas glares back. His look would have withered any soul to dust, but for the demon king, it is simply an amusement. Meliodas frowns as his father gives a humorless chuckle. "I've always admired your lack of ceremony," he says. "Gods such as we have no need for etiquette, do we, my son?"

"Tell me what I want to know."

"And reward your ridiculous tantrum? What sort of father would I be?"

He steps forward again, raising the sword. Meliodas swallows but does not wince, even when the blade comes within a hair's breadth from his chest. Despite the clever way the demon king has him pinned, not a single one of his hearts have been damaged at all. But the point of the sword now hovers above the first of his hearts, and the demon waits to see if this will be the end of him.

There is a prick on his skin, but nothing more; then the king brings the sword to his lips and tastes the drop of blood left on the edge. "Not ready," he murmurs, and inside the holes of his eyes Meliodas can see just a flash of something.

"What is this?" he hisses. "If you want to kill me, then kill me. Don't bore me first."

The king laughs again. "I would not kill you for the world. You are my son and my heir. You are my first thought of the day and my last thought of the evening."

Meliodas jerks against his binds, once more testing their strength. "What pretty words. Would you like to suck my cock while you're at it?"

"Oh, Meliodas," the demon sighs. "Perhaps one day you will grow up. Until then, I must treat you as the child you are."

"I am no _child_ ," snaps Meliodas. "Let me go and I will show you just what I am. Unless you are that frightened of my power?"

The king tilts his head, as if regarding him. "You stormed in here without invitation or permission, set to ruin my throne room, and now hurl insults at me despite my mercy in allowing you to live. Yes, Meliodas, you are a child."

Meliodas grunts but gives up the struggle, knowing he is bested. Still, he also knows the king will not kill him, so he calls out, "Answer my questions and I'll save you the grief of being in my presence."

"Answer one of mine first," the king says. "Have you bedded the goddess yet?"

It annoys him to no end to be asked such a base question; what difference does it even make? "You are more like Estarossa than I thought," Meliodas responds. "If you want to fuck a goddess then do so. Do not come to me for details."

"Don't think I haven't considered it," the king answers mildly. "I wanted that girl for _you_ , but if you wait too long I will take the princess for my own bride."

The very idea of Elizabeth being touched by the king makes his stomach turn. The goddess— _his goddess_ —would never survive such an encounter; even if her body healed her mind would be broken forever. There is a strange sense of urgency that boils within him to _fight, protect, defend_ , and Meliodas identifies it as panic. Panic at what? At seeing Elizabeth harmed, at handing her over, and knowing she belongs to another? What difference does it make?

His thoughts are swirling in a confused mess, so Meliodas latches onto his father's words. "Why is the girl for me?" he challenges. "Why not Estarossa or Zeldris? Why a goddess at all? She cannot hope to survive as the queen."

Suddenly he is jerked forward, the stakes of the king's power still piercing his body acting like hooks to draw him closer to the dais. Meliodas pants as the torment intensifies. His skin burns with a fever as it tries to heal itself, but the magic is too powerful to be overcome; his wounds reopen with fresh blood, causing his head to swim a little as he is pulled closer and closer.

Finally he stops, held into the air so that he can feel the king's breath on his ruined body. He blinks to clear his vision and his mind, trying to figure out what his father is doing, hearing him murmur, "It was so much easier when you were a child. You were so filled with a nearly boundless viciousness, the repugnance of your soul savory enough to sustain me for years."

The words are confusing, and Meliodas fights his screaming mind for the words to ask what it means. But the king continues, "Now you force me to play these games. I told you before, I want the power of the goddess clan. I want Britannia. And you will get it for me one way or another."

"By marrying Elizabeth?" Meliodas rasps harshly. "If you want the goddess clan so badly then marry her yourself."

The king examines him, the creases in his forehead growing deeper. "Then what use would you be?" he snorts. "Or those brothers of yours? They are already useless; I could see them destroyed with no regrets. Once you take my place they are no longer needed." The king leans in to crow into his ear. "They are outside, both watching the door. One is praying for your life while the other prays for your death. Would you like to know which is which?"

"I don't care," Meliodas responds.

The king goes still. It is suddenly quiet, as though the room has slipped into a vacuum; Meliodas can no longer even hear his own beating hearts or the drag of the air from his lungs. It is an unnerving moment, but he cannot see exactly what the king is doing. He feels a pricking in his mind, despite being able to see his father's hands. "What are you doing?" he hisses.

"You are a liar, Meliodas," replies his father. "In the demon clan, we do not abide by liars." He pulls back, and their gazes lock. "Perhaps you do not know? That is interesting enough."

"Know _what_?" Meliodas roars in frustration. "Tell me the truth!"

"I can't," the king answers. "One cannot pick a fruit before it is ripe. Otherwise it will rot in half the time. But I can see…" His eyes sweep over his son's face. "I can see that you are starting to ripen again. It has been a long time, Meliodas. I thought that lust would be enough, but this… is a pleasant surprise."

The prince does not know what to say. What is the king referring to, exactly? He is tired of asking questions, and now that he knows his father either can't or won't give him what he wants to know, Meliodas wants to go and find another way. But then the king smiles and says, "Only fools allow themselves to fall in love, Meliodas."

"Love?" He says the word as though it is foreign. "I'm not in love."

"No, you aren't, not yet… But the seed is there, the spark, the start. I can see your soul and it will fill soon enough. You have been empty far too long, and I am tired of waiting. I will do what I must to have the power I need to win this war."

Shocked by his words, Meliodas is soundless when he feels himself being lowered to the floor. The talons of magic release him unexpectedly, and he falls to the ground with a thud of agony. Immediately his body goes to work repairing itself, the cells causing hot trails of sharp pain inside and outside of his skin. But he pulls himself up on his knees, glaring up at the king. "What seed?" he calls, pushing his voice past a raw throat and cracked lips. "What do you mean I am empty?"

The king has returned to his throne, his ancient body settling back into the chair. "You are dismissed," he says with a wave of his hand, and a moment later Meliodas finds himself in a bloody heap on the ground in Britannia.

* * *

Elizabeth wakes with a sharp rap on the door. She groans as she stretches, her body stiff from sleeping on the floor. The princess presses a hand to her pounding head, swallowing painfully from the soreness that still lingers in her throat.

The knock comes again and she scrambles as quickly as her body allows to stand. "Come in," she calls, wincing at the crack in her voice.

The door opens and Jelamet walks inside. Elizabeth is flooded with relief, tears immediately springing to her eyes—until she sees the hard expression on her face. "Jelamet," she whispers, taking steps towards her friend. "Jelamet, I am so sorry for your loss—I have so much to tell you—"

"Her Majesty has sent me to collect you," the goddess answers coldly and succinctly. "Please dress and come along promptly."

Elizabeth sucks in a deep breath. "Jelamet, please, please I can't—"

"Get. Dressed."

The look the goddess gives the princess is nothing less than menacing. Ice water fills Elizabeth's veins to see such callousness in her friend's eyes. Shaking, she nods and hurries to the closet to find something fitting to wear. As Elizabeth dresses, she furiously dashes away the tears that roll down her cheeks, slowly buttoning her dress with trembling fingers.

She knows her eyes are darkly lined and her hair is limp but Elizabeth does her best to remain as regal as she can when she emerges. Jelamet does not say a word but simply turns and opens the door, allowing the princess to step into the hallway before silently leading her through the castle.

Finally she cannot bear the silence anymore. Elizabeth reaches out to take her friend's hand, whispering, "Jelamet, please let me—"

The girl yanks her hand away with a viciousness Elizabeth would have never guessed. She whirls on the goddess and looks at her with fury. "Don't touch me," she hisses. "Don't even speak to me."

Elizabeth's lip trembles as she says, "Whatever you think I did, I swear I—"

"My father is _dead_. Because of _you_." For the first time the heartless shell begins to crack, and pain flashes across her expression. "I helped you leave the Celestial Realm because you asked me. I trusted you and you betrayed us all."

"I swear, I did not," pleads Elizabeth. "I don't know what happened to Mael."

"He was murdered by the demon prince you love so much," Jelamet nearly snarls. "He was killed in cold blood. That blood is on _your_ hands."

Elizabeth's trembling increases, the blood draining from her face. "I'm so sorry—I didn't know—"

"Don't speak to me again." Jelamet looks down, her cheeks bright red. "Now let's go, Your Highness."

Her mind whirls with sorrow as they continue their walk in a stony silence. Elizabeth can feel her chest swelling with grief, first at the loss of the archangel, and now of her best friend. The terror she had felt from Belialuin and then from her mother is pushing as well, wanting to overwhelm her in anguish and send her reeling. But Elizabeth is determined to hold steady, to show her innocence in this awful act.

As she walks, however, a new sense of dread creeps through her mind. Meliodas had left them for hours, on an errand she did not know. Would he have done this? Did he return to Belialuin to face Mael, to kill him? She shivers to think that the demon she thought she knew would do such an act. Elizabeth had thought there was more to discover about the demon race, and that perhaps they were not the vicious beings she had been taught. But if Meliodas could go and do such a thing…

She nearly stumbles when another thought strikes: what if he had killed Mael for _her_? Mael had seen her in Belialuin, he was the only goddess other than Jelamet that knew she was there. If Meliodas had killed him to cover her secret, then his blood _is_ on her hands.

The princess is quietly crying when they reach the temple. Many goddesses are gathered, and their accusing eyes on her makes Elizabeth wish she could disappear. The queen stands in her place in the center, standing next to a white sheet that covers a large figure.

Elizabeth turns to Jelamet once again, to offer her comfort and beg her to simply _look_ at her, but the goddess turns away and moves to join her family at the side. Now alone, Elizabeth silently moves to the side, aware of the stares and whispers as she takes her own place for the ceremony.

She dares to glance up and to her relief, her mother is not looking at her. Without realizing it her hand moves to caress her throat, and Elizabeth closes her eyes with her grief and humiliation. No wonder her mother had lashed out at her so violently: they all believe Elizabeth is the reason for the archangel's death. Somehow she must tell them that she did not know, but her betrayal may be too great to be believed.

"Welcome," the queen says, and all but Elizabeth raise their eyes respectfully. "We gather in peace, soul to soul, within this sacred place to witness the sacred Rite of Passing for the archangel Mael."

The goddesses whisper his name, the murmur cresting for a moment before dying back into silence.

"Let us weave our circle so that our spirits may connect and send his soul to the sacred place, so that one day he may be returned to us."

Next they move, and Elizabeth finds herself jostled to the outside. Her arms wrap around herself as she steps into the circle, glancing up briefly and unsuccessfully to catch Jelamet's eye.

"Mother Earth and Father Sky, in the name of our clan and our gods, for all goddesses, we call upon you to guide this soul, to feed it with your abundance, to nurture it with rest, to bathe it in your beauty."

The queen places her hands on the sheet, smoothing it carefully and delicately. "I call to the guide and the guardian of the lands of the departed to lead Mael to the hidden realms. I beg you to welcome his soul and allow it to give the gods praise. We will praise you here with remembrance of love and duty."

Elizabeth wipes away her tears, listening to the familiar and ancient words. Silently she prays for Mael's soul to be delivered, and for the soothing of those left behind. _Goddesses are light. Goddesses are grace_ , she whispers in her mind. _Let Mael find peace. Let Jelamet forget her pain. Let my soul be forgiven._

When she opens her eyes, she is startled to see the queen glaring at her, the spark in her eyes frightening. Without turning her gaze the Supreme Deity concludes, "Let us now close the circle so the soul may depart in wisdom and love."

Elizabeth stares back, pleading with watery eyes, her hands clasped tightly. Her lips are trembling as her heart aches, but her mother gives no comfort. The others murmur their good wishes to the soul of the departed; then she watches as the queen steps back. There is a flick of her wrist and the body and cloth go up in a blue flame; moments later it is gone, as if it had never existed.

The goddesses give a collective sigh of release, their mourning eased by the ritual. The queen finally breaks her gaze from Elizabeth, dismissing her with a final derisive look before moving to speak to Mael's family. Jelamet is glaring at her viciously, and the princess turns away. No one speaks to her or offers her an escort. Elizabeth is alone.

* * *

Meliodas sits on a cliff overlooking the sea. It is calm here, and a good place to think, one he returns to when his mind is troubled. Or, at least, it is what he _used_ to do; Meliodas has not had a puzzle to solve in at least a century.

With a stifled grunt he flexes his arms before leaning a bit to stretch his back. He is healing from the piercing darkness, but it is slow going as the attack was filled with the king's wrath. The demon had stayed in Britannia thinking Elizabeth would help the process along. However, he is sure now that she is not coming.

He looks at the sky and finds the Warrior hunting. He thinks of the lessons from his youth, as Chandler had taught him how to read the constellations and their stories of power and victory. The Warrior was a demon who had found and slain Lodi, the king of dragons. Meliodas had enjoyed that story, but much to his tutor's chagrin he had fancied himself as Lodi instead of the revered Warrior, jumping from the bannisters to attack those below with teeth and fire.

Chandler had been exasperated as always, but when he tried to chastise the prince Meliodas had insisted he was wrong. "After all," the young prince had said, smacking Chandler with a rod he had been using for his tail, "we remember _Lodi's_ name and not the Warrior's. So he couldn't have been that great!" His tutor had no answer for that, so Meliodas was allowed to roam the castle as a little dragon, scaling the side of the walls and setting things on fire until the next game caught his eye.

He huffs to himself with the memory. His father had been right, he _was_ born with more than his share of viciousness. Meliodas shivers with the remainders of his fever, watching in the bright starlight as his skin sews together under the fading burns and bruises. He vows to pay the king back for his savagery, no matter how deserved it is. He realizes just then that the king had never asked him what Estarossa was doing in Belialuin in the first place.

Once more he looks up at the Warrior, and another of Chandler's lessons comes to mind: for as the poets say, _the warrior's most powerful weapons are patience and time_.

Patience and time… two things he is sorely lacking. He still has no firm leads on the weapon, and now he must grapple with the emotional mixture that is causing one poor decision after another. Perhaps there is a connection, some power among the goddesses to soothe? He had never seen them do anything but deal death with a smile and a sword, but anything is possible. This is why he had wanted to meet tonight; the demon had decided to press her about her powers, and interrogate her more aggressively on her role within the clan, to use her sense of debt and gratitude to his advantage.

Meliodas is surprisingly disappointed that Elizabeth has made no disappearance in Britannia. Not only for his task and to heal his wounds; now he is worried that she met some fate for sneaking away. If he had known Mael had been killed, he would have never sent her back to the Celestial Realm alone.

 _Why do you care?_ his mind whispers.

 _I don't_ , he whispers back.

He doesn't care, he can't, he _won't_ , no matter what his father had said, no matter how his chest is twisting and in the back of his mind he is trying to figure out a way to go and see for himself. Instead, Meliodas stands gingerly, stretching out his wings to take flight again. Gowther should have something to hurry along the healing, and then he can forget the goddess and go on with figuring out the mysteries that have been multiplying like the stars.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Consequences

**A/N:** My deepest apologies for being late this week. I injured my wrist which made it difficult to type and work on edits. But I'm feeling much better and I hope this is worth the small wait.

I would like to give my deepest thanks to the talented and wonderful Galfridus, who has assumed beta duties on this fic. Your encouragement was invaluable this week, as it always is.

 **Please note:** Next week I will be taking a brief hiatus as I work on a oneshot challenge. Chapter 12 will be published in two Fridays (July 27). If you'd like to see what I'm working on in the meantime, check out my Tumblr page! Details are in my profile. :)

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Consequences**

 _When dread sweeps over the world tonight  
Bleak as a wind in the desperate fight  
As I lay myself down to go to sleep  
I pray for young souls who now lay dead  
And pray for souls that trudge the night  
And all the brave who fight the fight  
Now I lay me down to sleep  
And last I pray for those who weep..._

— _Carrie Richards_

Meliodas wakes in a bed that is unfamiliar. He is a bit sore, his back and shoulders stiff, so when he moves he does so carefully. There are no threats in the immediate area, so he allows himself a quick self-assessment. His wounds and burns are healed, but tender, the lingering memory of his "conversation"—if it can be called that—making his mind buzz.

The room is dim; when he sits up and looks around, the first thing he sees are two golden eyes staring at him. "Where's Elizabeth?" the girl demands.

"Get away from me," the demon snaps, swinging his legs around the side of the bed.

"You're all cut up and burned," Merlin observes. "What happened to you? Is Elizabeth okay?"

Meliodas does not answer, brushing her aside as he strides to the bedroom door. The girl follows on his heels, still asking for the goddess, but he ignores her.

Gowther is sitting in his chair, writing in a book. A quick glance at the windows tells Meliodas it is afternoon. "How long was I out?" he barks at the Commandment.

The man looks over his shoulder with a mild amusement. "Not long. It's only been a few hours. Do you feel better?"

He mutters an affirmative before moving to the window to look outside. There are no signs of life, not that he expected much in the middle of nowhere. But there is something, just beyond, he thinks: like a storm brewing, despite the lack of clouds. "Has there been any word from the demon realm?" asks Meliodas.

Gowther wheels himself around the table. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Merlin step up and whisper something to him, but the man waves her off kindly. Then he moves his chair closer, folding his hands in his lap before replying, "None, Captain. Your wounds were quite terrible. Is there trouble coming?"

Meliodas lets go a snort. "There is always trouble coming." He glances over at Gowther. "I spoke to my father last night. We did not agree on a few things."

"I see." The prince watches as Gowther looks over at the girl, giving what seems to be a reassuring smile. She is behind him, so he cannot see what she is doing, but he can feel her agitation. "Captain," he says, "may I ask if the goddess was safely returned?"

He grits his teeth, turning to face them both. "In a manner of speaking, yes," he answers cryptically. Then Meliodas eyes the girl, who is scowling at him fiercely. "You've caused nothing but trouble. And now you've made a problem for me. I should toss you off the nearest cliff."

Merlin's eyes go wide, the color draining a bit from her face. He smiles, glad to see her fear. _Good. If she had been afraid, this wouldn't have happened in the first place_.

"An alternative?" proposes Gowther gently. "I'd like to keep her here. I'd like to teach her."

"Teach her?" Meliodas huffs.

Gowther nods, rolling over to Merlin. "I've taught her a few simple spells just this morning, and she's mastered them quite nicely. I think with some proper training the girl could be quite adept at magic." He looks at Meliodas pointedly. "A child with such a gift could be a great service to Britannia."

Meliodas frowns. "Except that she has the grace of the goddesses, and so cannot serve the demons."

"I said Britannia, not the demons," Gowther smiles. "You know my history. You know I am not a loyal follower of the king, but a subject compelled by my decree." Then his eyes trace up and down Meliodas. "Based on your injuries, I would call you the same."

The demon feels his forehead burn as his demon mark flares. Power surges through him instantly, his fingertips glowing with the promise of magic and pain. Merlin shrinks behind the rolling chair, but Gowther remains steady. "Talking such is treason," says the prince.

Gowther nods. "It is."

"No matter _what_ your history is, _no one_ may speak openly of treason. I do not take such words against the demon clan lightly."

He inclines his head in acknowledgment. Meliodas is still furious, but the calmness of the Commandment stays his hand from destroying them right there. "So what is it?" he finally shouts.

Gowther returns his gaze and says, "There is no denying this girl has a power that is remarkable. Without instruction it will cause more damage, but with a teacher—"

"And you think _you_ are this teacher?" Meliodas laughs.

"I do." Gowther returns his gaze, and the prince considers. It's as good a place as any to leave the girl, short of doing away with her. But he could not do that to Elizabeth—he doesn't know why, but he _can't_ —and at least this way she is off of his hands.

"Fine," Meliodas agrees. "She will stay with you for the time being, as long as it does not interfere with your duties." He eyes Merlin, who shifts closer to Gowther. "Be cautious with this one. I have a feeling that anyone who has dealings with this child will eventually be cursed."

Merlin's eyes harden into anger, but Gowther only chuckles. "So noted, and you have my thanks, Captain. But if I may ask… the goddess? She really is gone?"

Meliodas nods, and Gowther continues, "I would like to speak with her again, if the opportunity arises. She showed me something interesting last night."

"What?" the demon questions.

Gowther folds his hands on his lap. "Elizabeth showed me how she prays. Have you ever heard of that, Captain? That the goddesses pray?"

"Pray?" snorts Meliodas. "It's not possible. In order to pray, they must love, and goddesses are not capable of that. They are too filled with pride to give themselves to others."

"Nevertheless, the princess told me she prayed." He presses his hands together, palms inward, and looks up at Meliodas. "It was like this. Then, she told me that she offers her strength, and wishes for peace."

Meliodas frowns. "Simple and childish, just like that goddess," he mutters. "Wishes are for childhood."

"I agree," Gowther nods. "And yet, she assured me it works. I saw her wish for Merlin's recovery, and it happened. The princess told me she would wish for the end of battles. She would wish for peace and for the demons to stop fighting." A cold chill goes through Meliodas as Gowther tilts his head. "Does that now sound familiar?"

He opens his mouth to answer when suddenly the air shifts. Both turn and look out the window, attuned to an undeniable feeling of being threatened. The demon narrows his eyes and pushes his senses forward at once. The goddesses are moving, a huge number of them, but not towards the cottage.

His relief is short-lived when he finally pinpoints their position: they are heading for Edinburgh, the stronghold of their allies, the vampire clan.

"Gowther," he says, "send word to the others to head straight to Edinburgh. The army must move. We must protect our allies."

"Of course," Gowther replies, "but do you not think this is just a way to draw us out? Going to meet this force could be playing right into their hands."

Meliodas smiles at him, his darkness pulsing, and it feels _good_. "Of course it's to draw us out. I would expect nothing less."

He moves to take his leave, but pauses when he sees Merlin trembling and wide-eyed. Their gazes meet, and she screws up her face and shouts, "You better keep Elizabeth safe! I won't forgive you if something happens to her!"

A vicious reply forms immediately on his tongue, but the demon swallows it as he clenches his jaw. Merlin returns his furious look, small and scared but defiant. It should have been enough for him to send her screaming in a ball of purgatory fire; yet he knows he cannot. _What would Elizabeth say?_

He growls in frustration and heads out of the house, taking instantly to the air. Meliodas flies through Britannia with a speed unmatched, heading towards the vibrant energy of the goddess clan that calls out to him and makes his nerve endings burn with excitement. He will be spilling blood today, and his mouth curves into a familiar, cruel smile.

* * *

Elizabeth gazes out the window in alarm, watching as hundreds of goddesses take to the air. It seems as though the entire clan is leaving, the army glistening with their golden armor and shining weapons. Her heart is seized with a mixture of fear and excitement. It is obvious that they are going to battle, which hangs over her heavily, filling her with dread.

She fears the reason why, but knows such a force means only one thing. They are seeking revenge for Mael.

Trembling she wraps her arms around herself. This has been all such a horrible, horrible mistake—and it is _her_ fault. If she had never gone to Belialuin, never snuck away from the palace, never invited Meliodas there, then Mael would be alive.

Yet deep within her heart, her regret only carries so far. Because now she knows the truth of the war—at least, the beginnings of the truth. Elizabeth is sure there are more secrets to uncover about her clan and the queen. But at least now her eyes are opening, and has painful as it is, she is glad.

There is a rallying cry outside, drawing her attention again. More soldiers take flight, falling into tight patterned formations. Elizabeth spots goddesses she knows among them; when she sees Jelamet's helmet in a group wielding long spears, her heart sinks even further.

Eventually she turns away from the sight, sighing to herself as she hangs her head. There is nothing to be done: Elizabeth cannot stop the battle. She cannot even leave her room! Briefly she thinks of Meliodas, wondering if he will be there in the fight before pushing that away. It is nonsense to think of the demon now. She won't see him again until they are married; what happens between now and then is out of her hands.

Her eyes travel around her room, once so comforting and soothing, now simply cold. Her belongings no longer feel like her own, the items of the goddess clan seem sterile and foreign. Then Elizabeth's gaze falls on the silver box.

There is a squeezing in her heart as she pulls the box from the shelf, her wings fluttering as she touches down and sits on the edge of her bed. She has always waited to look inside for the right time. Her hands smooth over the wood, tracing the plated silver leaf.

Her face flushes and Elizabeth can feel tears starting to rise a bit. The box had always brought such comfort, such possibility. Anything could be inside, simply _anything_ , the promise of it all so comforting. Whenever the goddess would hold it in her lap, her fears over her mother and her clan and the pressure of taking the throne one day would fade as she wondered what was inside. Elizabeth's worries for the future would turn to excitement, her anxieties melt into hope.

There is no hope anymore for her future, and she decides then and there to open the box.

Trembling fingers graze along the wood. For the first time she realizes she does not know _how_ to open it; there is no obvious clasp or lid. Elizabeth frowns as she pulls it closer to her face, trying to find a way to pull the top away without breaking it.

Frustrated, she flips it over, and her heart stills as she hears a _thump_. Elizabeth freezes, staring at the box—whatever is inside just made that noise! Her breathing increases as her heart pounds furiously, knowing there is a _something_ inside. A part of her always suspected that it might be empty, and the fear had kept her from doing anything more than looking at it or giving it a gentle touch. She is afraid now, fighting the urge to give it a vigorous shake.

Carefully she turns it back over, biting her lip as she wonders what to do. Why give someone a gift they cannot open? Elizabeth even closes her eyes, pressing her power forward, wishing for it to open. She peeks through her lashes to see, but unfortunately nothing happens.

There is a noise at her door and the goddess quickly stashes the box underneath her pillow. As she whirls and stands, Tarmiel steps inside her room. "The queen calls for you," he says simply, then steps to the side to indicate that she is to follow.

Slowly Elizabeth stands, wringing her hands. She had not seen anyone since that morning, when she was deposited back into her room after the ceremony. Her stomach is in knots as she enters the hallway, the sounds of the army moving outside now muffled as they walk down the hallway. There is not another soul to be seen, and it is almost eerie for the silence inside to contrast so sharply with the frenzied activity outside. Each step she takes closer to the throne room fills her with dread, the first time in her entire life that Elizabeth is petrified to face her mother.

The throne room is also empty, other than the queen on her throne. It is even more odd here, no advisors or servants or guards crowding into the room for the opportunity to be seen by the Supreme Deity. Elizabeth swallows against the heat that builds in her throat. She quickly glances to the side, towards the balcony where her mother had told her what fate awaited her, and where she had twisted her fingers into her hair as her words were laced with threats. Beyond that the sky is filled with the goddess clan, who continues the mobilization.

"Elizabeth," the queen calls sharply.

The princess snaps her eyes back to the throne, immediately going down into a deep curtsey as she has been taught. Elizabeth closes her eyes to wait for whatever punishment the queen has designed this time, but instead her mother only says, "Get up."

Elizabeth smooths down the front of her dress as she straightens. "How can I serve you, Your Highness?" she says, her eyes remaining on the floor, her fingers once more clenching tightly together to keep her trembling at a minimum.

"I'm sure you've noticed our noble goddesses heading to Britannia," the queen replies coldly. "They are going to bring justice to the demon clan for their evil deeds."

A chill goes through the goddess. "More fighting?" she asks, her voice tight with emotion. "Mother—Your Majesty—please, I know that—that Mael's death was wrong, but—but more violence?" Elizabeth takes in a shaky breath, shifting uncomfortably under her mother's stare. "Surely we can negotiate—after all, the act of one demon should not—"

"Listen to yourself." The queen leans forward, seeming to grow taller and more menacing, her shadow creeping through the throne room towards Elizabeth. "No one would have ever guessed that _my_ daughter, whom I sacrificed _everything_ for, would be so ungrateful."

"Your Majesty!" she pleads. "I'm not ungrateful, I swear to you—"

"A demon sympathizer. One who would excuse the actions of a murderer." The venom in her words causes Elizabeth's face to flush a bright rose color and her eyes to drop to the floor. "Demons are nothing but vile scum. Haven't you been taught that already? And yet you would defend them, when all they deserve is death."

Elizabeth is stung by her words; but the true pain comes from how _wrong_ they are. She has met a demon for herself, and no matter what has happened to Mael, the goddess believes in her heart that the queen is _wrong_. She thinks of his eyes on her, his arms around her as he took her from Belialuin, the way he caught himself with Merlin, keeping his violence from unleashing on the girl. "Meliodas could not have done this," she whispers, almost to herself. "I don't know who did, but he couldn't have, I know he—"

A sharp sting across her face knocks her from her train of thought. In shock she looks up to see her mother standing over her, the glower on her face making her look terrifying. "Don't speak the name of that _murderer_ in my presence."

The queen leans forward, so her face is only inches from Elizabeth's. The princess stares back in fear and alarm, holding her smarting cheek. "You are a traitor and a fool. To fall in love with a _demon_ of all things," she murmurs.

The Supreme Deity gently brushes a strand of Elizabeth's hair behind her shoulder, making her tremble. She blinks in confusion… _in love?_

"I kept you away from the war so you would not suffer. I never wanted you to know pain or misery. Your role was to be a beacon of grace and beauty, to take my place one day as the queen of the Celestial Realm." Her mother sighs, her hand resting heavily on her shoulder. "The first chance you had, you defied me. You left without my permission. You gave yourself over to the demon prince. You, who have never seen Britannia outside of your picture books, dare to judge _me_ and _my_ actions."

Elizabeth shakes her head, her heart squeezing painfully. "No, Mother, I'm sorry, I—"

"Get down on your knees." The queen pushes her roughly to the floor, Elizabeth throwing out her hands to keep herself from being harmed. "You wretched girl," she continues, almost sweetly, and Elizabeth's stomach turns. "To think my hopes lived in you, only to be betrayed. I've done everything for you, fought this war for you, hid you away _for you_ , and now you abandon me to be seduced by the prince of demons."

Her hands clench against the marble floor, a tear splashing against the white. _It's all true_ , she thinks, knowing she is to blame, knowing if she had just _obeyed_ none of this would have happened.

But still Elizabeth wonders, _why tell me this now? Why not before?_

And then, like a soft touch in her mind, _fallen in love?_

"Pray." Elizabeth looks up to see the queen once more sitting on the throne. "You have one use to me now, and you will fulfill it or I will see you cast out for your sins. Pray that the demons will be defeated. Pray that they will lay down their weapons and accept their destruction."

As if in a dream, Elizabeth settles back on her legs, her hands coming together automatically. "Goddesses are light," she says softly, almost unconsciously, the lessons taking over the swirling confusion in her mind. "Goddesses… are grace."

"Louder!" the queen shouts. "I want to hear your words."

Elizabeth looks up at the queen, meeting her eyes even as she shakes on the ground. "Goddesses are light. Goddesses are grace."

Her voice is strong, echoing a bit in the empty room. The queen gives a sickly sweet smile and relaxes back into the chair. Elizabeth swallows painfully, her throat dry, and continues.

"Lay down your weapons. Let us have peace."

Her eyes fall closed. Behind them, she pictures Belialuin on fire.

"No more death. Please, stay your hands. Still your swords."

A girl—Merlin—lays in the rubble. Elizabeth can feel her thin and frail body cradled against hers. She thinks of the warmth that flowed from goddess to child as she healed her wounds. She thinks of the golden eyes that blinked open at her, the soft smile Elizabeth managed to coax with milk and bread, the tiny wrists above the hand that slipped into hers when the goddess had offered it in comfort.

"There is—there is no need to fight. Please, I pray you…"

Golden eyes become golden hair atop a face both youthful and full of secrets. His eyes search hers, for the truth, and although Elizabeth feels exposed, she is never afraid. She realizes now it's the first time she has ever felt that way. Her entire life, especially the most recent weeks, have been nothing but _fear_ : fear of war, of death, of the demons, of her powers, of the queen. Only with Meliodas does she feel safe—a feeling of warmth that somehow reminds her of the—

"Elizabeth!" The queen is getting angry, her hand clenching into a fist. "Focus, Elizabeth."

The princess blinks rapidly. "Y-yes," she says, closing her eyes tight. She brings her hands up beneath her chin, her fingers weaving tightly together. But all she can think of is _him_ … his face, his hands, his strong grip around her, his skill in stopping Ludoshel, his look of surprise when he gazes at her. So Elizabeth prays, from the bottom of her heart— _in love_ , her mind whispers, and she ignores it, that's something to think about another time—and wishes for _his_ safety.

"Be well," she says, her voice trembling a bit, but stronger now. "Be safe. Be free from all harm."

 _Would you give it to me, if I asked?_

"May your life be spared." Elizabeth presses her fingertips to her lips. "May you know freedom from battle and death."

 _You are the only one who will tell me the truth._

"Be safe. Be well. Be free from harm. Live."

 _Will I see you again?_

"Come back to me."

 _Come back to me, Meliodas._

* * *

There is already a cadre of demons before Edinburgh's gates when Meliodas arrives. To his surprise, Zeldris is there, giving commands as the highest ranked among them. Meliodas lands in a burst of wind and earth, slowly standing to survey the area.

He looks over his shoulder and can see a shadow in the sky. But it is not rainclouds, but the goddess clan, racing towards them as if hell itself is chasing them. This will be a battle to remember, he is sure of it; he tries to savor this moment as he usually does, the minutes that tick by in a breathless sort of anticipation for the first swing of weapons and the first sprays of blood. He is thirsty for a fight, after the humiliation he bore from his father, the fight with the goddess, the absolute mess that Estarossa has made of things.

That is why they are coming, of course: the Supreme Deity would not suffer the death of her highest archangel without some kind of revenge. He counts the tens of goddesses as their number goes into the hundreds, his mind flipping through the pages of strategy and counter-attacks that were a part of his upbringing.

As the angels continue their approach, he frowns. For the first time he feels trepidation. Briefly he considers going to meet them; perhaps his new relationship with his future bride can stem the slaughter before it begins. After all, once he marries Elizabeth, they will be _his_ subjects as well. The truth of this statement strikes him for the first time. He will be the king of demons _and_ goddesses. What will become of the war then?

"You're here," Zeldris shouts as he steps up next to him. Meliodas glances over as his brother follows his gaze. "You should have let me end Estarossa," he mutters. "Then we could have simply chucked his head at their gates."

Meliodas tries to think of an answer, but then another question comes to his mind. "How did _you_ get here so quickly?" he asks. "Did you receive a new assignment?"

Zeldris does not look at him, his brow furrowed in hard-set concentration. "None of your business," he replies, one of his standards.

Despite the eminent danger, Meliodas laughs to himself. "You're the last one I would figure would be interested in vampires," he jokes, shaking his head. A smile creeps over his face as Zeldris shoots him another look, the usual banter feeling familiar. His palm begins to itch for his sword, and the prince once more looks towards the sky. Finally, the bloodlust is beginning to settle in his veins, preparing him for battle.

The others begin to arrive shortly, and Meliodas notes Gowther's doll is among them. The Commandments gather for orders, Chandler and Cusack and other ranking demons also appearing for the assault. "Usual formations," he says. "The vampires are our allies, however useless they are. The demon clan cannot suffer an attack on one of our own. Bear in mind that the goddesses want revenge. They will show no mercy, so neither shall we."

"Revenge for what?" Galand asks, scratching behind his shoulder, and Meliodas only glares.

"It's none of your concern," he bites out. "Your job is to engage and defend. Kill as many as you can. They will begin to make mistakes if our assault is executed perfectly. Their emotions are high, and that will be their downfall."

"Captain? What about the weapon?" He looks at Monspeet, now stroking his mustache. "If the lesser demons are—"

"We won't need to worry about the weapon if we can take out enough of them at the start," replies Meliodas. Then his eyes dart to Estarossa. "You will keep this army well stocked and you will _not_ allow them to disobey orders. Do you understand?"

Estarossa looks different somehow—older, stronger, and the adoration he is used to seeing in his eyes is gone as he nods. "Yes, Captain," he says, his voice grave.

They move as commanded, but Meliodas calls Chandler back. "Keep an eye on my brothers," he says, low enough for only the tutor to hear. "Estarossa has killed an archangel. It may have affected him."

"Yes, my prince," Chandler nods. "For as the poets say, _madness is a pleasure only madmen know_."

"And Zeldris… there is something different about him as well." Meliodas grinds his jaw. "He was here already when I arrived. He is hiding something."

Chandler bows and takes his leave. Meliodas begins to walk, moving away from Edinburgh, his footfalls shaking the ground. His focus remains on the sky ahead, and once he is a mile from the castle he reaches out his hand, calling for his sword. The thick hilt is familiar in his hand, and his mouth crooks upward in a devilish smile as he lifts the heavy blade.

When the battle begins, it is the slaughter he had been waiting for. The bodies of the dead surround the demon as he deals annihilation to them, one soldier after another falling to the swing of his blade and the power that erupts from his hands. A group use _Ark_ to send a blast towards him, but foolishly they combined their powers so his _Full Counter_ send the attack back into the pack of goddess soldiers.

Meliodas plunges his sword through the chest of a goddess when he feels a breeze on the back of his neck. His eyes go wide with familiarity, and whirling he cries out, scanning the area. Another goddess comes in to strike, but it is swept away by a red demon before he can react. But Meliodas is now focused on this new feeling, and most startling of all, he is the only one affected.

 _Be free from all harm._

"What is that?" he shouts, cutting down another goddess as he heads towards the voice. The air is thick with blood and screams, the ground running red and black. His eyes go to the sky, where the forward guard is fighting three of the Commandments. Sparks of magic are falling, rending the earth, more commands coming from every direction, blades and arrows and bolts of lightning sailing through the air.

 _Be safe. Be well. Live_.

"Elizabeth?" he whispers. He remembers Gowther's words— _have you ever heard of that, Captain? That the goddesses pray?_ —and he plants his sword into the ground. "Elizabeth?"

 _Come back to me._

Meliodas closes his eyes, and he feels her presence, the calm, soothing voice wrapping around his soul. Her eyes and her hands press against him, stilling his blood, stopping the crazed frenzy of fighting. His heart is seized with fear, and at once he takes off in the air, flying in madness towards the Celestial Realm.


	13. Chapter Twelve: The Pawn

**Chapter Twelve: The Pawn**

 _We were made to understand it would be  
Terrible. Every small want, every niggling urge,  
Every hate swollen to a kind of epic wind._

 _Livid, the land, and ravaged, like a rageful  
Dream. The worst of us having taken over  
And broken the rest utterly down._

— _Tracy K. Smith_

By the time Meliodas reaches the gate to the Celestial Realm, his senses have mostly returned. The furious need within him to answer the call of the goddess had abated somewhat, so that when he lands his head is clear. He can still hear Elizabeth's voice in his mind, whispering to him, enticing him, beckoning him to her side. He will answer that call, if for no other reason than to find out _why_.

But he is not the lovesick fool that his father had chided him for being. This is the power of the weapon of the goddesses, he is sure of it. There can be no other explanation: the breeze on his neck, the voice unseen, the caress of desire that had ensnared his mind. Her words had made so much sense, and at the same time were pure foolishness. Using Elizabeth's voice had been beyond clever, the demon must admit, albeit reluctantly.

However they are doing this, he must end it. He is no lowly red or gray demon. For the weapon to be powerful enough to sway _him_ , then it is just a matter of time before their clan falls. His power flashes as he strides towards the gate, the pure menace rolling from him in waves of black mist. Meliodas smirks as he catches sight of the two guards at the gate, holding their weapons ready for a fight despite their obvious fear. He can taste it in the air.

"Halt, demon!" one cries. Meliodas laughs at the tremble in his voice. With a flick of his arm he sends a burst of _Hellblaze_ at the two goddesses. One manages to avoid the attack, throwing himself into the air to avoid the flames, but the other is not so lucky. He screams as the fire engulfs him, filling the air with the smell of burning flesh and feathers.

The demon looks up at the goddess hovering above, his face a mixture of horror and fury. "Do you want me to kill you?" he calls up. "Or would you rather live?"

With a strangled noise, the goddess charges forward, his spear pointed at the demon. He screams a command and a burst of power comes hurtling at Meliodas. The prince barely needs to move to summon _Full Counter_ , sending the attack back in a spray of light. The goddess is knocked off balance, and Meliodas uses the opportunity to leap into the air, black wings expanding, his sword flashing in his hand. It swings in an arc that severs the goddess in half, the two ends falling to the earth in a spray of blood.

Meliodas lands again, flicking his arm to the side to shake off specks of blood that had landed on his skin. With that settled, he continues walking to the gate—his eyes only glancing over for a moment at the pathetic goddess now on the ground, still in flames—and steps into the Celestial Realm.

The rush is familiar as he had done this before, and seconds later he blinks through the white haze as he gets his bearings. Meliodas looks around the landing in the palace, finding it empty. There are no guards, no servants, nothing to indicate life within the goddess' stronghold. His instincts go on full alert, knowing how unusual such a state must be.

With silent footfalls he heads towards a corridor, recalling the path he had memorized when brought to the princess. The hallways are made of marble and stone, lanterns lining the walls; but still there is no sign of life. The first time he had come here there were goddesses making their way from one room to another, music playing, light filling the palace from every direction. Now it is dim and quiet and still, setting his nerves on edge.

He finds the room where Elizabeth had served him tea. It is as empty as the rest, and Meliodas crosses the room to inspect the window. Outside is just as empty, the clouds that surround the palace hanging low. He grits his teeth as he looks outwards, seeing the pathways the goddess army took to Britannia.

What is he doing here? Why did he come? This place is empty and unguarded, a perfect opportunity to deal a blow to the wretched goddesses. But if there is no one here…

There is someone, there must be. Elizabeth.

Turning, Meliodas continues searching the palace. The layout is very different from the stronghold of the Demon King. Where his father's castle is laid out in rigid patterns of hallways and rooms that sprawl over miles of land, this place is a twisting maze that seems never ending. One room leads into another, and another, most hallways ending in a staircase or a balcony, everything connected in a way he cannot discern. Statues of goddesses adorn the palace, the walls covered in elaborate crown moulding. The furniture is luscious and trimmed in gold, the curtains and drapes of the finest silk and gossamer.

The demon is uncomfortable surrounded by such blatant luxury. Is this what they work for? Not for the glory of their clan, but to surround themselves with _things_. Meliodas finds it all vulgar, preferring the starkness of the king's rooms. Their clan did not bother themselves with such elaborate nonsense.

Sick of wandering, Meliodas presses out his energy, seeking Elizabeth. He had been holding his power closely to not be sensed by anyone else, but now he sends it outwards, slinking through the hallways in search of his goddess. He grips his sword tightly in anticipation, ready to move the moment he comes into contact with anyone else.

 _There_. It only takes a minute before the unmistakable signature of Elizabeth touches him, making his heart pound and his mouth go dry. Meliodas begins walking towards the feeling, her light calling to him like a beacon. But he nearly stumbles when he hears her voice.

" _Meliodas… Be safe… Be well…"_

It is the words that had called him in battle. He recognizes her voice now, and it clicks in his mind why the call had sent him flying towards the Celestial Realm. It almost had been in a daze, his body and mind acting before he could even think or process what was happening. Meliodas realizes his arm is trembling, and he looks down at his hand as if he does not recognize it. It had been Elizabeth who had called him? He thought for sure it had been the weapon… unless…

He continues on, moving with great speed until he enters the floor where he knows she must be. But immediately he is frozen, because _another_ power has come into focus, one that is so overwhelming it makes his stomach turn.

Every part of him is now screaming, the desire to _kill hurt take her head_ warring with _run leave save yourself_ until his head is pounding. Even the blood in his veins feels like lava, churning through him and sending him sweating and shaking. There is only one being in any realm that would cause such a reaction in the most powerful demon alive; even Mael, the greatest of the archangels, was but a speck compared to what he feels now.

Yet Elizabeth is there, so he continues. His footfalls are heavy as he approaches the room at the end. Meliodas becomes aware of how Elizabeth begins to invade his senses: he can hear breathing, the murmur of her soft voice, the pulse of her beating heart. He catches the scent of her hair, like a warm summer breeze, and can almost feel the weight of her in his arms as he flew, the way her curved body felt so soft against his. The desire to see her finally is beginning to pulse, and even though he has so many questions: _why did you call me? how? did you use the weapon?_ , the most important one of those is: _are you hurt?_

Meliodas stops before a set of doors, a small staircase of swirling white marble leading upwards. He _knows_ this place, and it takes only a few moments to remember why. His eyes narrow as he recalls Chandler fussing with his hair and the goddesses covering smirking giggles at him, the humiliation and anger of being presented like some sort of object, the silver box that represented his hatred and envy. This was where he had stood before the Supreme Deity and was promised to her daughter; the irony of coming to claim her once more makes him cold instead of amusing him.

He walks up the stairs slowly, feeling his power sliding down his right arm like ink. There are many rumors among the demons about the queen of goddesses, that she can turn you to stone with one look, that her voice is a death sentence, that she can turn demons to dust with a snap of her fingers. The fact that she has not been seen in battle in hundreds of years adds to the mystery. Whatever Elizabeth may believe about her mother, Meliodas knows it is all lies. There is no information about her because there has been none to collect. Whatever the queen had been up to in Britannia all these years, it has not been fighting demons.

Knowing her secret gives him confidence. With the hubris befitting the demon prince, Meliodas pushes open the doors to the throne room.

* * *

"Goddesses are good. Goddesses are light."

 _Please, Meliodas. Be safe. Be well._

Her silent prayer cycles again and again through her mind, and Elizabeth is glad that her mother does not know. What would she do if she knew her daughter is praying not for their victory, but for the safety of a demon?

Elizabeth is not even sure why she is doing it. The security and victory of her clan is at stake. Yet she cannot help but wonder if he is there, if he is safe, if she will see him again. What she has gathered about Meliodas is that he is incredibly strong, unmatched in Britannia, but she worries anyway. She thinks of continuing with her life without his presence, now that he has opened her eyes. What would become of her mother's plans, her hopes for the future, the war?

Besides, none of them would be in this position if the goddesses had not attacked first. Elizabeth purses her lips tightly together. Their fight is with the demons, and yet they are heading towards the vampire clan—how is that justice? To her it seems like one more link in an endless chain of violence, one more reason for fighting. She longs to ask her mother why, why do they fight, why do they kill the innocent, why do they not simply demand justice from Mael's killer, why do they do this, _any_ of this?

"Elizabeth!" roars the queen. The goddess snaps from her thoughts and looks up, trembling in fear. "What are you doing?"

Elizabeth blinks, trying to find an answer that will satisfy the pure fury that is on the queen's face. "I am praying!" she exclaims. "I am… I am doing as you commanded!"

"Then why do my soldiers still fall?" The queen leans forward, her eyes glowing with the goddess symbol. Her fingers dig into the arms of the throne, her hair and her wings lifting as her power begins to expand. "My goddesses are dying. The demons are slaughtering them, their blood is drenching Britannia. If you were praying, they would be winning! They would be victorious!"

"I am!" she pleads. The images of the goddesses—of Jelamet—dying at the hands of the demons sends her trembling. Tears rise to her eyes as she pictures her friend on the ground, blood on her face, her eyes open and empty. "Please, Your Majesty, _please_ ," cries Elizabeth, burying her face in her hands.

"This is your doing. You set that demon onto Mael. You forced our hand." Elizabeth sobs again; yet her grief turns hot, sharpening into anger. "All that happens today is because of your deception, your betrayal," sneers the queen.

Elizabeth clenches her fingers tightly into her brow before lifting her head. "This isn't my fault," the princess says.

The queen stares at her for a long moment. "What did you say?" she hisses.

"This isn't… it isn't my fault." Elizabeth swallows nervously as she meets her mother's gaze. "I don't want war. I don't want fighting."

"You should have thought of that before you abandoned your clan!"

"I didn't abandon you, Mother," Elizabeth insists, blinking away her tears. "I went to see for myself what destruction this war has caused, and I saw Belialuin." Slowly she stands, her hands clasped together tightly. "I never would have believed the goddesses capable of such devastation. But we are, Mother! This war must end!"

Silence hangs heavily in the room as the two goddesses stare at one another, one in defiance, one in rage. Then the queen lifts her chin and says, "Then do what you were born to do, Elizabeth. End this war, now. Today."

Elizabeth gasps, her eyes growing wide. "Me?" she asks. "How can I—"

"Your power, Elizabeth." The Supreme Deity nods towards her knowingly. "Send the demons away. Bend them to your will so the goddesses can be victorious. Only then will this war end."

"What do you mean?" The princess frowns in confusion. "I lend the goddesses my strength, I don't do anything to the demons."

"Elizabeth," the queen sighs, her head tilting to the side. "All I have invested in you. You had the best of everything: the best tutors, the best security, a life free of worry. But I see now that it only bred naivete inside of you."

The princess heaves with one deep breath after another. "You've been using me," she says.

"To end a war, my dear daughter," the queen smiles. "Isn't that what you want?"

"Not at the expense of more lives!" Elizabeth wishes she could be stronger; looking deeply within herself, she feels Meliodas' presence, as if he is standing behind her, giving her the courage to look up into the queen's eyes. "If killing demons means saving the goddesses, then I won't do it. I won't sacrifice one for the other."

The queen laughs coldly. "You would choose those vermin over your own people?" she cries out shrilly.

"Who decided they were vermin?" Elizabeth demands. "I've seen good and bad on both sides. I've seen the goddesses capable of acts of war, and I've seen a demon capable of compassion to a little girl."

"What are you talking about?" she demands. "What little girl? You're lying!"

The princess bites her lip, afraid she has said too much. "It doesn't matter," she insists. "I don't want anyone to die. I won't help you sacrifice the demon clan for the goddesses."

The queen's smile broadens slowly into a grin that turns Elizabeth icy with fear. "You will do as you're told," she says. "Or else I will cast you out into the world and curse you. And who would stand with you then?"

"I will."

Elizabeth whirls around, her hair and wings flying as she catches sight of the demon she has been praying for, longing for, but her elation lasts only a second before she is thrown into the air and crashes into the wall. Her body breaks against the marble, pain crashing through her like a lightning bolt, and the goddess screams as she falls to the floor. Pieces of the rock fall around her, pelting her head and back and legs, but she cannot move to protect herself.

She cries out in pain, coughing as she breathes in the dust that is swirling in the air from the wreckage. Elizabeth tries to move, to run or even crawl away, but her head is spinning and her limbs are aching. She can feel the cuts and bruises all over her body, the sting from her healing power alerting her to each one as the skin is sewing itself together. She manages to press a hand to her head, the pressure helping to ease the thudding so she can look up to see if her mother is hurt.

At first what she sees makes no sense, because there are no sounds to match. The Supreme Deity has grown in height, nearly reaching the high ceiling of the throne room, her arm extended and glowing with light; before her Meliodas moves with a speed she cannot track, sending back one spell after another as he weaves through the queen's _Ark_. Each strike that fails to meet its mark goes careening into the palace, more rock and stone crashing to the ground. It should be deafening, she should hear the shouts of the two who are fighting, she should feel more than just the vibrations of their powers hitting marble, but she does not.

Elizabeth wills herself to pull her body up. She drags her legs underneath her body to push upwards onto hands and knees; the movement leaves her panting in agony, the fractured bones in her body not completely healed. Another wave of dizziness hits, and as she closes her eyes until it can pass, her ears begin to buzz, and then ring.

Finally she hears a command called in Meliodas' voice. Elizabeth snaps her eyes open, and she can pick up his words, but they are muffled as if he is down a long tunnel. He calls out something as violet flames engulf his body. They shoot outwards in every direction, but the queen is well prepared, forcing them around her in a wide arc. The air in the room whips around, swirling the goddess' hair around her face. Elizabeth cries out in terror, not knowing what to do, or how to stop the fighting.

She falls back, pressing her head against the wall behind her, unable to move as she watches. Meliodas moves as the trained soldier he was born to become; his swordplay is impeccable, his ability to dodge and deflect one attack after another is nothing short of remarkable. She has never seen him this way, but the princess marvels at his speed and skill. Truly he is destined to be the next king of his clan. Who else could live up to his power? Who could hope to challenge him?

And yet… Elizabeth has never seen her mother fight, either. Her moves are deliberate, her face expressionless, deep in concentration. As Meliodas calls a taunt or shouts aggressively as he springs into the air, the Supreme Deity fights with a sense of dignity that is as terrifying as it is mesmerizing. Elizabeth thinks she looks as though she is playing an instrument, the sure, fluid movements of her arms and the contented look in her eye signalling that things are well in hand. And truly they must be, for Meliodas is looking winded, his brow covered in sweat, yet the queen looks completely unaffected.

"Mother," she whispers, her body feeling too warm. Of course the queen does not hear her voice through the fighting. The sound is growing sharper and louder, but it is gradual, the noises still sounding as if they are behind a locked door. "Mother! Please!"

But the queen does not answer, or even look her way. Elizabeth trembles, wondering what to do; if this goes on, Meliodas is sure to die. With a great amount of effort the goddess takes a deep breathe and shouts. "Meliodas!"

He spins immediately, only being missed by another hit out of sheer luck. Their eyes meet and he flies towards her, the fight with the queen immediately stopping. Elizabeth reaches out for him, thinking: _you're safe, you're here, take me away, anywhere_ , and the demon has concern on his face as he peers at her.

" _Divine Salvation."_ The command echoes through the hall, and as Meliodas is turned towards Elizabeth, the Supreme Deity raises her hand. Elizabeth is screaming for him, her hands extended as if she can reach for him and pull him to safety. He begins to turn around when he sees her looking over his shoulder, but before he can react the attack is released, blinding them all in a fiery white light.

* * *

Pain.

That is all that registers for Meliodas. Fire and ice and white hot agony.

It is something he is used to, something he relishes. Pain means growth. Pain means power. Pain means life.

Does he want to be alive? Meliodas is no longer sure. The days stretch by endlessly, drinking and eating and killing. Hunting dragons. Hunting goddesses. Training soldiers. Taking the humans as prey. The same existence that had been his for five hundred years now feels empty.

That emptiness consumes him, he remembers now. Nothing can fill it, nothing can help. Does he need help? Does he deserve it? Meliodas wonders if he wants help. But help from whom? Who would the heir to the throne ask for help?"

" _Meliodas, can you hear me?"_

Yes, he can hear her, of course he can. She is a goddess, evil, lying, forbidden. Her foolish ideas and pleading voice and tears that hover like crystals do nothing to his heart. Her silver hair and ample bosom and silk dress that clings to her thighs do nothing for his body. And if she cannot stir his heart or his body, what use is she to him?

 _The weapon._ He remembers now, they had used it on him. The breeze on his neck, the voice of angels. The voice the woman in the burning town had heard. It was _her_ voice.

" _You're going to be fine."_

He wishes the voice would stop and let him think. Meliodas is so close to figuring it out, he could taste it. Taste it like the blood of his enemies, of the meat he would attempt to cook on his own, the fine dishes prepared by the court of the Demon King. He had known luxury, and it bored him, so he had set out for poverty, finding it worse. Nothing suited one whose only goal is destruction. What good is life to the bringer of death?

 _Fool._ There is a reason now, and as much as he hates himself for it, he cannot deny it any longer. The girl who had offered him tea and scolded the demon prince on his manners has piqued his interest, something that has not happened in more than three centuries. There is an end he can see to the interminable days of boredom. There is someone to teach and tease. There is someone to—

" _You're safe now. Just open your eyes."_

 _Shhhh_ , he wants to say, but his mouth will not move. He wants to braid her hair and feel her arms and taste her thighs. He wants to hear her cries and her laugh. He wants _her_.

With a start, Meliodas is awake. He swings into readiness, calling his sword as he springs into a fighting position. But instead of the Supreme Deity, or any other enemy, he finds Elizabeth blinking up at him in confusion in the grass. "Where is she?" he demands. "I need to kill that bitch."

Elizabeth only stares back, her eyes and mouth wide, her gaze darting to the oversized sword in his hand. Slowly he lowers it, understanding finally coming to him. "Where are we?" he demands.

"Somewhere safe," she admits. "Although I've only dreamt of such a place."

Meliodas looks around at the lush trees billowing in every direction, swatting at a wayward insect that flies by. "We are in Britannia?"

The goddess nods. She stands and gestures towards him. "You had many wounds that were in the process of healing. I don't think you could retain enough power, so your body would not regenerate fast enough. I was afraid…"

He turns on her sharply. "This is the second time you've used your healing power on me. Don't do it again."

Elizabeth flushes and turns away. Meliodas feels a sourness inside of him that fuels his anger. "Where are we?" he demands again.

"Do you feel that? The energy? It is life itself." A small smile ghosts her lips, easing the sick inside of him. "It called to me as I carried you here. It felt like we could be safe here."

" _You_ carried me?" Meliodas frowns deeply. "You? What did—?"

He grits his teeth as he struggles to remember. Fighting the goddess queen had been more of a challenge than he had ever dreamt it would be. He could use _Full Counter_ easily enough, but the pure energy of her attacks were so great that even using his ability left him shaking. And she would send them one after another, clearly a tactic to wear him down—and it was working, too well. Meliodas had been so busy being on the defensive he had no hope to get close enough for a physical attack. And as he felt his strength and stamina slowly draining from him, _she_ looked bored, as though swatting a fly.

Meliodas studies Elizabeth then, who is staring at him with a curious apprehension. There had been an attack that had filled him with a piercing light, sending every bone and nerve and organ screaming in fire and agony. The next thing he remembers is Elizabeth's voice—does that mean she has saved him?

The idea is so shameful he turns away. Meliodas tries to remember a time when _he_ needed saving, and cannot. Even as a child he had been stronger than most, and any that actually dared to stand up to the spoiled and destructive prince quickly learned why his father praised him so. His teeth grit in irritation; why all of these memories now? He never thinks about the past, finding it useless, yet ever since his return it has been one recollection after another.

The old impertinence of his youth nags at him, and even now that he has left those days behind he feels the urge to snap at her. Meliodas tries to think of what to say, but unfortunately the goddess beats him to it. "You've saved me twice now," she says quietly. "I was happy to return—"

"Shut up." Meliodas clenches his fist, actually flustered by his outburst. "This would have never happened if you hadn't called for me in the battle."

"The battle? You were there?" Elizabeth is in front of him a moment, later, her hands pressing on his arms. "What was happening? My mother said the goddesses were dying. Do you know?"

He shrugs her off. "Yes they were dying. There was death on both sides. It was a battle, princess, not one of your tea parties. You must kill before another kills you."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment Meliodas wonders if she will be sick. "I heard your voice," he says. "How did you call for me?"

"I didn't," responds Elizabeth in confusion. "I was praying for the safety of the goddesses. But tell me, please, did you see the goddess who sat with me the day we met? She was wearing a silver helmet with wings on the side, and her weapon—"

"Do you think I took inventory of the beings I killed?" he mocks. "There were many demons at the fight. Your clan was there to destroy the vampires, our allies. How do you defend that?"

"I don't," she sighs. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

Meliodas remembers what Gowther had said, how Elizabeth would fold her hands and offer wishes during battle. "Did you pray for me?" he asks slowly.

The princess blinks at him in surprise before nodding. "I did," she admits, her cheeks flushing. "I did not want the goddesses to win if it meant the death of others. So I thought of you, and thought if I could lend you my strength and offer a prayer, then perhaps you would be safe."

"I heard you. I heard your voice," he growls. "You pulled me from the battle. I was on my way to the Celestial Realm before I even realized what was happening."

To his surprise, Elizabeth looks flustered. "I've never done that before. I've never prayed _for_ someone. Only _against_ the demons. I didn't know you'd hear me."

"Did you use it?" demands Meliodas. "My head was filled with your will, overpowering mine. Just like the lower demons when they abandon battle. How did you do it? Where is this weapon?"

"There is no weapon," she says breathlessly. He takes a step towards her menacingly, ready to call out her lies, but Elizabeth puts up her palms. "There is no weapon! I only pray. My mother taught me how to do it. I didn't know!"

Meliodas halts his approach, his insides going numb. If that is true…

 _Goddesses are liars_.

But this one is not. Naive, ignorant of the world, but not a liar. Any falsehoods she has said were taught to her.

Horror fills him as she stares at her. If her words are true, that means _Elizabeth_ is the weapon. And Meliodas must kill her.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Change In The Game

**A/N:** My deepest apologies for the delay. I have been dealing with some personal things and needed to put this aside for a bit, and then struggled to finish what needed fixing over the past few days.

I must give the most heartfelt thank you to my beta, Galfridus, for her constant encouragement and patience with me. There are times when the doubt is so sharp I think I ought to give up on this fic, feeling as though it would never be good enough, and she has always believed in me even when I didn't. You are an amazing person and I am so glad to have you in my life.

To everyone else who sent messages and left reviews, thank you. Your words remind me that people are reading, that others care, and that means everything to a struggling writer. Thank you!

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: Change in the Game**

 _a pawn into a king so goes the dream,_  
 _but when we are young and green and foolish,_  
 _and the game seems interminably long,_  
 _we only want a shortcut to glory—_  
 _except our turns soon turn poorly, the gleam_  
 _of victory assured starts to vanish_  
 _as our position which once appeared strong_  
 _is revealed weak, failing, mortuary._

 _now the end game looms our conclusion reached:_  
 _a few short moves before the lines are breached_  
 _those naive thoughts of winning disappear;_  
 _latent dangers become present and clear,_  
 _your ambitions attrited, in decay,_  
 _are reduced to just remaining in play._

 _—Oneforallseasons_

Elizabeth stares at Meliodas, who regards her with more disgust than he has felt in a long, long time. She has made a fool of him, drawing him into her grace, making him believe she was somehow different than all the others. She saved him, yes, but only to ingratiate herself into his life. He bares his teeth as he stares at the goddess. _How dare she do this?_

"Please," she says. "Please tell me—"

"You're a liar," he seethes. "You pulled me from the battle to save the goddesses. You invaded my mind so I would come to you." His sword is heavy and familiar in his hand, and Meliodas tightens his grip. "Did you lead me to that bitch so she could kill me?"

Elizabeth simply gapes at him, her mouth and eyes wide. He takes a step towards her, then another, wanting to intimidate her. Maybe she will run, and he can chase her and release some of this pent-up violence that is leftover from the battle and his confrontation with the Supreme Deity. Perhaps she will just collapse, begging for her life, and he can make her death last as she cries. She may even fight him, reveal more of her power that she has hid away, thinking she could even come close to the depth of his own.

Any would be entertaining and satisfying enough; however, the goddess is not afraid, or sorry, or defiant. Instead, she is… _hurt_.

"I am not a liar." Her words come out as a harsh whisper, shaking on her lips. "I have been accused of lying by _everyone_ the past two days and I—I can't stand it anymore!" Meliodas lifts his chin to regard her as the goddess' voice rises in pitch. "You have accused me of betraying your trust, of somehow pulling you from the battle? Of lying to you about some weapon? Then know my own clan feels the same way. My people think I've betrayed them, that I've _sold_ myself—to _you_."

Meliodas is surprised to hear this, and he feels a strange twinge at the idea. _Goddesses are liars_ , he thinks to himself. But if this is true, then perhaps…

"My best friend thinks…" She chokes on a sob, angrily dashing away a tear from her cheek. "My mother said that I betrayed her. I've given my entire _life_ to serve her, I've been nothing but obedient, _nothing_ but tried to live up to her wishes, and she—she—" Elizabeth is crying openly now, and Meliodas watches with a strange fascination as she begins to tremble, her face flushing furiously. "She said I bedded you! That I ran away to—to be with you! And then she said _I_ killed Mael."

After another swipe of tears, Elizabeth steps forward in challenge. "Why did you do it? Why did you have to kill him? I know that Mael knew we were there, but this battle happened because of _you_!"

"I didn't kill him," Meliodas snaps back at her, the rage pulsing through him. But not because of the accusation; it was because _she_ is making it. "As much as I would have loved to see his blood on my sword, I never went to Belialuin again."

Elizabeth shakes her head. "No, they said you killed him, they said—"

"Believe what you want!" he shouts, emotion tearing through him. "I didn't kill anyone!"

Meliodas is practically seeing red. But it is off, somehow, it feels _wrong_ , and it is nearly choking him. "I didn't kill him," he says again, firmly, then turns away.

Why does he care? What difference does it make? Meliodas closes his eyes as he waits for his hearts to stop their furious pounding. He has killed more goddesses than he could remember, entire cities could run red with the blood of his victims. Even if he did not kill this one archangel, he is glad for the death, glad one more of these irritating goddesses are gone from the world. The goddesses are a blight on Britannia, hungry for power.

Yet he is unnerved by his outbursts. This isn't like him, and the emotion surging through him leaves Meliodas shaken. _How is this possible?_ The prince of demons does not care about anyone, or anything, except himself.

"I'm sorry," says Elizabeth.

Once more Meliodas finds her words soothing, and that agitates him further. He is beginning to crave her voice and her touch, even as his disgust for her grows. Yet louder than the need inside him is his horror that she is the weapon he has sought all this time.

A hand slips onto his shoulder, soft and tentative, but he jolts at the touch. Meliodas spins and finds himself face-to-face with Elizabeth. He would be a fool to deny how beautiful she looks in that moment, bathed in moonlight and washed with emotion. His mouth goes a bit dry to look at her, his skin warming at her light touch. "I shouldn't have said those things," she whispers.

Meliodas turns fully so they now stand completely facing one another. "I've been looking for a weapon of the goddesses," he says quietly. "One that can invade the minds of the demons and turn them from battle."

Her eyes widen slightly, and he observes her throat moving as she swallows. "There is no weapon," she answers.

Meliodas nods. "I see that now. You pray for them to go, and they listen." The goddess does not answer as he reads her eyes for the truth. "Just like you prayed for me today," he continues. "You called my name, and I heard you."

"I didn't know," she whispers. "But I am glad for it."

His forehead wrinkles as he frowns. He wants to ask why, but she goes on, "You didn't kill Mael? Do you swear it?"

A part of him laughs at her request, the idea of swearing to something so childish. And yet, he nods, eager for her to believe him. "I swear I did not kill him. It was my brother."

"Your… brother?" Elizabeth closes her eyes briefly. "Did you order him—"

"I had nothing to do with it," he says to cut her off. "Mael was a deceitful and arrogant creature, and I'll admit I assumed I'd have his head one day. But I did not do this thing, nor did I order it."

Elizabeth closes her eyes, looking as though she is thinking, and then slowly nods. "I believe you," she says, her gaze tracing his face.

What a remarkable thing, to be _believed_. That a goddess of all things would take his word for something; that he has been _asked_. The shadows are deep enough she does not see the curve of his smile.

He looks at the ground, his mind swirling with indecision. Elizabeth herself is the weapon he has sought all this time. But how? She has a power that could influence any of the goddess' enemies, himself included. So why would the Supreme Deity keep it a secret from her own daughter? What is the purpose of such a thing? It is so different from the way _he_ was raised, a sword in his hand as soon as he could walk, the king demanding more than he could give as he trained and bled and studied under Chandler.

His smile disappears as Meliodas weighs this. How long has the goddess clan known of Elizabeth's power? How did they discover it? More questions with no answers, and he grits his teeth in frustration. Now that he knows the truth of the weapon, he must decide what to do about it. He should kill her, he _has_ to kill her. But why would the Supreme Deity agree to the betrothal if it meant giving away her greatest weapon? Even more importantly, did his father know about this?

No, he will wait. Until he learns all that he can about this arrangement and Elizabeth's power, he will stay his hand. When the time comes, he will kill the goddess. Until then, he will use her for his own gains.

It suddenly makes sense now, his odd behavior, the emotions that Elizabeth had stirred within him. Meliodas does not care for anyone or anything in the world outside of how it affects him. That includes the goddess. The truth feels uncomfortable, as though it does not fit on his shoulders, but he pushes it aside. Just another side effect of her influence on him, her power manifesting in his consciousness.

There is a shift in the air, and at once Meliodas realizes where they are. He looks straight at her, the fury evident on his face. "You brought us _here_?" he snaps, his voice nearly dripping with disparagement. "Are you an idiot?"

"I… Where are we?"

Her expression aggravates him further. How can she be so senseless? "We are in the Fairy King's Forest," he answers. "The fairies are on their way here now."

Elizabeth frowns. "They won't kill us. The fairies and goddesses are allies."

His mouth twists into a cynical smile. "Some allies," he scoffs. His tone is mocking, causing her to blush. "Why in the name of the gods would you bring us _here_?"

"I felt… as though I was pulled here," she answers softly. "It felt safe."

"Fairy magic. You've been tricked." He snorts cruelly. "Your first decision in the world and it is the wrong one. How fitting to get yourself killed so easily. Now don't move and let me think of how to get us out of here."

Meliodas plants the tip of his blade into the ground, allowing the rest to jut upwards towards the sky, and crouches on the ground. She watches as he tilts his head to listen, his eyes closing. No footsteps yet, but energies moving in their direction. He attempts to count them but is distracted by her fidgeting. "You may as well rest as you can," he advises her. "The fairy king will not let us leave so easily, mark my words."

Quietly Elizabeth replies, "I'm fine, thank you."

His mouth quirks again. "Suits me fine. This way I can see right up your dress."

The princess gasps and quickly gathers her skirts together, pulling them taut around her legs as she scrambles away. Meliodas gives a low rumble in his chest, and if he was not so distracted by her amusing response, the demon prince might have noticed he was _laughing_.

Her humiliation is evident as she says, "You are mocking me!"

He chuckles again, but she refuses to look at him. Meliodas listens, guessing the fairies are less than ten minutes away. He reads their power levels, trying to ignore the goddess until he blurts out, "Why did you bring us here?"

"You've asked me that already," she whispers. "Why do you insist on asking again?"

"Because it's hard to believe you are this foolish," he snaps back at her. "The fairies have no loyalty or love for either of our clans. You may as well have flown us directly into your mother's bedchamber."

Elizabeth grits her teeth. "Must you be so vulgar?"

Meliodas looks at her through narrowed eyes before propping himself up on an elbow. She shrinks a bit backwards from his scrutiny as he asks, "Why did you save me?"

"What do you mean?" she says wearily.

"In the throne room. You could have run."

The goddess shakes her head. "It would not have been right to leave you behind. I did not feel the attack as you did, so I used the chance to grab you before the light dissipated."

"Don't do it again."

His command is final, but Elizabeth can only gape at him as he looks back down. "Are you saying I shouldn't have—"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," interrupts the demon. "If you have a chance to save yourself, you take it. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't!" Elizabeth leans forward, catching his eye. "Are you saying if it had been the opposite? If I was the one fighting, that you would have left me to die?"

Their eyes connect, lingering on one another for a long, tense moment. Slowly Meliodas straightens to his full height before answering, "Yes."

A minute ticks by as they stand so closely together. There is the taste of something in the air, sharp and electric, and the demon has a sense that he can feel her heart beating. His own body stills as his senses, just on high alert, dull as he takes in the sight of the goddess.

His gaze eventually falls to her lips, and he wonders what they taste like, if they are firmer than they look, what she would do if he leaned forward just slightly to find out. He imagines she would jerk away, perhaps slap him, doubtful that she would press back or return any real passion. But Meliodas grows more curious by the moment; without realizing it, he leans towards her, not noticing that she moves towards him until he feels her sweet breath graze along his mouth.

He has every right to kiss her, if he chooses; every right to take her right then, to touch her and fuck her in every way he can imagine. His pulse quickens at the idea. His eyes zone in on the lips before him, the plump outline a perfect rose color, as if just stained with ripened berries. The skin of her face is smooth, delicate like lace and fresh as cream. Meliodas does not dare to look into her eyes—the prince of demons too stunned to even try it, despite how wrong and filthy that is—so he focuses on her perfect mouth.

It would be his right to do it. Even if he had no claim to her as binding as a betrothal, he is a demon and a prince. Meliodas takes what he wants. Meliodas decides the fates of others. It is his right by his clan and his position. He stares at her and licks his own lips.

A noise startles them both. Meliodas spins, his arm grabbing her to pull her roughly behind him. Elizabeth stumbles, and would have fallen if not for his grip, firm and steady on her. She gasps in surprise as his sword once more flashes in his hand. There is a noise ahead, and her eyes snap up to look over his shoulder. Every muscle in his body tenses, ready to fight, and once more she places her palm on his shoulder, allowing it to slide downwards to the shoulder blade.

But the demon jolts, jumping away from her as if burned. "Don't touch me!" shouts Meliodas furiously. It is too much of a distraction, and based on the energy that is coming from within the trees, he needs his full senses to keep them alive.

Elizabeth looks as though she would speak, but before she can dozens of creatures appear, stepping through the trees with spears lifted and pointing towards them. "Stay where you are," commands a voice. "You are trespassing on our land."

"Elizabeth, don't move," Meliodas orders quietly.

"Silence!" the voice calls again. "Do not speak unless it is to answer a question!"

He scans the trees before he darts his eyes to the side. "Put your weapons down or I will wipe each of you from the earth," he growls.

"No!" Elizabeth cries. Meliodas glares at her again, his scowl once more heavy under the weight of his wrath. _Stupid goddess_.

Shooting him a look she turns around, holding her hands out. "Please, there is no need to fight," she calls, addressing the group surrounding them.

"Who are you?" the voice demands.

Meliodas reaches out to grab her before she can speak, but just as his hand closes around her arm she says, "My name is Elizabeth. I am the daughter of the queen of goddesses."

He mutters under his breath, a curse in a dark language that sends everyone into a shiver as the goddess looks at him in confusion. Yet a handful of the spears are lowered in response to her announcement. "You are the daughter of the Supreme Deity?"

Elizabeth turns to the one who had spoken, as he finally steps out from the ranks to make himself known. They are all dressed identically in dark green cloaks, their features shrouded in the shadow of the forest. "Yes," she answers, her heart beating furiously. "I'm sorry we are trespassing, I didn't know. I don't want anyone to fight."

The stranger's eyes glow gold as they survey her up and down, and then flicker to Meliodas. "That is no goddess."

"His name is—"

"Shut _up_ , goddess," the demon growls. Elizabeth immediately swallows her words, glancing at him sharply. But his eyes are on the one questioning them, and he continues, "Either fight or stand aside. I'm not standing here all night to be questioned by fairies."

"Trespassers in the Fairy King's Forest must see the king for judgment," the fairy answers. He looks at Elizabeth closely. "You may follow, but that one—" here he nods at Meliodas, "—must stay. You must give up your weapons and—"

"Not a chance," the prince interrupts.

The fairy bristles. "Demons are not permitted in the forest!" he cries, his voice tight with agitation.

"I don't even want to be in your damn forest," Meliodas growls. "We're leaving."

"You can't," the guard scoffs. "No one can leave without the king's permission. You'll find yourself wandering a millennium before finding the edge of the forest."

Behind her, Meliodas gives a dark laugh. "Then I'll burn the forest to the ground."

The fear and hatred coming from the fairies is nearly choking, and she turns to him, her eyes pleading. "How can you even say such a thing?" she whispers.

"Why not?" he hisses back. "Do you think I wouldn't do it? I have enough power."

She blanches at that, and Meliodas responds with a smug look. But as her expression goes from shock to disgust, an uncomfortable heat singes his throat.

For the first time… Elizabeth looks afraid of him.

Fear is something he is well acquainted with, but in _her_ eyes it feels wrong, shameful. The idea has him so rattled that when she addresses the fairy again, her change of tone nearly does not register. "Bring the king here. If he cannot enter, let the king come to us."

"Don't be foolish," the fairy says.

She balls her hands into fists and fires over her shoulder, "Do not speak to me as if I'm nothing more than a girl that wandered onto your land! I am the daughter of the queen. Tell your king I am waiting."

"You can come yourself," he offers. "Leave the demon behind."

"I'm not leaving him anywhere."

Elizabeth glances at Meliodas, but still he is staring at her in confusion. Her tone and her demeanor are that of a princess, of a ruler. Of his _equal_. Where is the naive, apologetic girl he has had to save time and again? Where is the goddess who knows nothing of the world, who cannot see beyond her own window? And now she is demanding an audience with the fairy king, and defending him; the chagrin he had been experiencing sharpens, watching her deal in diplomacy the way he deals in death.

There is a murmur among the group, and then the ranks part as another fairy steps forward. He sheds his cloak to reveal huge rainbow wings behind him, his long red hair sweeping over his shoulder as he regards them coldly. "Do you know who I am?" the fairy says, his eyes never leaving Meliodas.

Elizabeth hesitates, but Meliodas shakes himself from his thoughts and says, "I assume you are Gloxinia, the king of fairies."

The smile turns genuine as the fairy nods. "I would expect the son of demons to know who I am." Meliodas is wary, wondering what exactly he knows, as Gloxinia turns to the goddess. "And you are Elizabeth. In all my years on this earth, never did I dream to see the daughter of the queen to come here, and with _him_ of all people."

Elizabeth's face is a model of calmness and reverence. "Your Majesty," she says, going into a graceful bow. Meliodas remembers how she had done the same for him, a twist of jealousy flaring and burning out just as quickly as it began. "Please accept my apology. It was I who chose the path that led us here. Had I known this place, I would never have trespassed."

Gloxinia looks her over passively. "You have fancy words and you seem harmless, but you did trespass, and so must face a reckoning for your actions." The king glances at Meliodas before continuing, "You, on the other hand, are certainly not harmless. I cannot let you live."

The demon merely laughs. "If you think you can kill me, I would enjoy seeing you try."

"Please, Your Majesty," Elizabeth says, "our clans have always been allies. I ask you—"

" _Were_ allies, you mean," scoffs Gloxinia. "Goddesses cannot be trusted any more than demons. Your queen has wiped Belialuin from existence. All of Britannia will now suffer for it."

Meliodas narrows his eyes. So that is why the fairies have pulled back into the forest. He glances at the princess, who looks as though she is not taking the news well. "I'm… so sorry," she says quietly. "I saw for myself what was done. It was simply awful."

For the first time, Gloxinia scowls. "That was your doing," he taunts her. "The demons are known for such cruelty, but we expect the goddesses to—"

"Enough," Meliodas says, interrupting him. He gestures towards Elizabeth, who is visibly shaking. "Can you not see that the girl is remorseful? Belialuin was sentenced to die by the queen, not her daughter."

"And the king," snaps the fairy. "What role did you play on behalf of your father?"

"None." Meliodas glares at him darkly. "But do know this: Elizabeth has saved the daughter of Belialuin. The girl is now safe, because of the princess."

He sees Elizabeth look at him in astonishment from the corner of his eye. It seems as though she is crying, which annoys him—can she not go more than an hour without tears? But he refuses to look at her, instead keeping watch on the king. "Fairies are known to be foolish, but I did not realize it extended to their king."

Gloxinia remains silent, his face melting into a pleasant smile that does not meet his eyes. After several uncomfortable moments, he replies, "How do I know this is true?"

"I will bring her here," replies Meliodas. "Then you can see for yourself."

He catches the slight arch of the fairy's brow. "You have a powerful weapon in that girl, and she is in your possession. Why would you hand her over to me?"

Meliodas returns the smile with a cold one of his own. "I'm not handing her over. I'm simply offering you a look." His eyes flicker to Elizabeth, who watches him intently. "In exchange, you will provide sanctuary here for the princess and the girl."

"Sanctuary!" Gloxinia laughs gaily. "This is not caregiving service. Britannia is at war."

"That's right," Meliodas agrees. "What better way to protect your forest than to have the daughter of Belialuin and the daughter of the Supreme Deity within your borders?"

The king goes silent once more, even as the soldiers titter. Meliodas laughs internally at the shift, knowing he has won.

"I will agree to keep them here," says Gloxinia. "But they will be subject to my rule while here. Anything that could be considered treason will be punished."

Meliodas nods his head. "Allow me to leave then. I will return with the girl at the edge of the forest and send her in. Elizabeth I will leave with you."

Gloxinia pauses to think before replying, "You have an hour to bring her here. Otherwise I will return the princess to the Celestial Realm."

The demon agrees, but before he can go the goddess grabs his arm. "Meliodas!" she says tightly, his name on her lips making his stomach drop. "You're leaving me here?"

"This is the only way," he tells her quietly. "I'll bring Merlin to you, and you will be safe."

"But… I thought we would stay together." Her eyes are sorrowful, which he finds fascinating. "Besides, it's just as dangerous out there for you as it is for me. Who will protect you?"

Meliodas laughs softly. "I don't need protection. What I need is to find some answers." He glances over her shoulder to see the king watching them. "Don't keep him waiting," he says, quiet so only she can hear. "The fairies are a proud clan, but their retreat into their forest has made them unusual. Be careful what you say around them. Give them nothing to use against you."

"I don't understand," she pleads. "If you would just stay—"

"No," he says finally. "The second you leave this forest, the Supreme Deity will find you. At least the forest will hide your energy and keep any scouts looking for you at bay."

Elizabeth nods, her expression softening for a moment. "I understand," she says quietly.

His throat feels thick suddenly, his goodbye stuck inside of his throat. So he pulls away from her grip and leaves, being sure not to look back.

* * *

The flight to Gowther's home takes no time at all, and Meliodas enters in a rush. "Gowther!" he calls out once inside. "I need the girl!"

He finds them leaning over a pot on the fire, the girl standing on a stool to look inside. Both turn, startled at his intrusion, and he narrows his eyes at Merlin. "You're coming with me."

"What? Why?" she shouts, and Gowther puts up a hand to silence her. "What is your plan, Captain?" he asks, a bit of emotion spilling through.

Meliodas presses his lips together. It is obvious his Commandment has become attached to the girl. This will make things even more difficult. "Change of plans," he announces. "Take her to the Fairy King's Forest. King Gloxinia is waiting for you."

"The forest?" Gowther struggles to keep his surprise in check. "Why would—"

"I'm not leaving!" Merlin shouts. "You can't make me!"

"You'll do as you're told," snaps Meliodas. "Elizabeth is there waiting for you."

"Elizabeth?" With that, her eyes widen in delight, and moments later she is scampering into another room, stopping to grab a small knapsack as she hurries by.

Gowther wheels over to where Meliodas stands. "Of course I'll take her, Captain, but will you explain what is happening?"

"No time," the demon answers. Then Meliodas looks at him intently. "I am trusting you to keep them both safe. The Supreme Deity is looking for her daughter, and tried to kill me. After the battle, the king will not be pleased with me either. But I need them alive. I need to find out what is going on. There is more to this war than we know."

Gowther nods. "I agree. Each battle brings a taint to Britannia. It's as though the reasons for fighting have been lost." Merlin emerges, her pack filled, and he says, "I won't fail you."

"Go then," Meliodas orders. He steps aside as Merlin approaches, watching as Gowther pulls her onto his lap. Then the magician creates a portal, a hole opening in the air, and they both pass through as it closes again in a blink.

Now empty the house is eerily quiet. Meliodas sits heavily in a chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He is more tired than he should be, but he supposes it is from his fight with the queen of goddesses. Carefully he rolls his shoulder, finding it stiff but not injured. Then he checks the rest of himself, sighing to see he is fully intact. Elizabeth's healing magic is truly remarkable.

He stares at the fire, sinking deeply into thought. He needs a plan, quickly, before either monarch learns where they are and what they have done. Meliodas curses her under his breath. Why couldn't she have just stayed in her palace, drinking tea in delicate china? Her journey to the accursed city is what started all of this; without her sudden need to see the world for herself, they would be exactly who they are supposed to be.

 _Who they are supposed to be_. _And what is that exactly_? he wonders. Forgetting that it was _his_ goading that made Elizabeth want to see Belialuin in the first place, Meliodas ponders how much she has changed in just a short time. Perhaps Elizabeth has always been so spirited, keeping it tucked away inside, waiting for a moment to emerge. The way she had handled Mael and Gloxinia was unexpected to say the least. She is now someone he could see learning her role as queen.

But was she truly supposed to be his queen? Is he even to be king? His entire life has been nothing but this, training and waiting to ascend the throne and take his father's place. Meliodas does not want it, not truly, although he knows no one else can fill the role as well as he. Estarossa is unstable, and Zeldris too rigid. Either would send the demon clan into madness. No matter what he wants, his destiny is fixed since birth.

The betrothal, the throne, the war: it is nothing more than a mixture of confused pieces that will not fit together. He does not notice as an hour slips by, then another; it is well after dark and the fire is burning low when something crashes into the house, sending it flying in pieces in every direction, wood and stone splintering in a rain of debris.

Meliodas finds his footing after skidding along the ground, ignoring the pieces that leave gashes on his skin. He grabs a hold of a plank of wood to stop himself, spinning as he plants his feet solidly beneath him. His ears are ringing from the blast, dust choking his lungs and his eyes singeing from the rubble. Quickly he pours out his dark magic, seeking the enemy.

"Meliodas!"

He stops in his tracks, staying his hand as the remains settle and the shifting sounds go quiet. The voice echoes a bit around him, but now that the air is clear Meliodas can see its owner for himself. The demon calls for his sword, which materializes in his grip as he approaches the figure, growling, " _Zeldris_."


	15. Chapter Fourteen: The Pain of Fools

**Chapter Fourteen: The Pain of Fools**

 _Be careful  
because butterflies  
can be wasps.  
When your stomach flutters  
and your hand shakes  
and your cheeks flush,  
sometimes it's not love.  
It's pain._

— _a. r._

Meliodas glares at his brother and swings. His giant sword whistles as it goes through the air, heading for Zeldris' neck. He means to take it off with one swipe, but Zeldris proves faster and more efficient at avoiding the blow than he had suspected. Quickly the younger demon jumps into the air, turning his body around to land in the blink of an eye on the other side.

There is a moment when he spins with a menacing look before it is Zeldris' turn to swing. Now it is Meliodas on the defensive as he lifts his sword to act as a shield and deflect the blade. Zeldris moves and thrusts again and again, his weapon seeking an opening, but Meliodas is too studied, too sure. He sends Zeldris backwards with a well-placed burst of _Hellblaze_ to allow them both a moment to assess.

"Stand down!" Meliodas shouts. "I will not think twice about killing you."

"You don't order _me_ ," seethes the other. "I am not one of your disgusting Commandments."

At that his frown deepens. "Watch what you say. Our father—"

"Our father can be damned! You can all be damned!"

Zeldris' hysterics are enough to break the building rage inside of Meliodas. He notes the flushed cheeks on his brother's face, how his eyes are lacking the usual coldness, how his fingers are trembling with his grip. The demon tries another attack, but it is without any of the usual calculated finesse, going wide and allowing Meliodas to trap him inside of a cord of dark power.

"Let go of me!" screams Zeldris. Meliodas gives a flick of his wrist, sending him to the floor; then his fingers turn to wrap the cord tighter and keep the younger from escaping.

Meliodas is patient, and after a minute's struggle, Zeldris gives up the fight. He lays on the floor glaring at him, his shoulders heaving with breathless anger. "Let. Me. Go," he hisses.

"What are you doing here?" demands the demon. He walks over next to Zeldris, crouching down to look closely into his face. "You know the consequences of attacking me."

"You're a traitor," Zeldris growls.

The accusation hits him in the chest like a blow. There was a time, not long ago at all, where after hearing such a claim Meliodas would immediately take the offender's head: but that was before he had entered a forbidden place, spared the life of a human condemned to die, and kept the daughter of their greatest enemy hidden. He is a traitor, in the truest, most basic ways. Yet it still stings to hear, his pride wounded to have it said out loud.

The prince pulls himself together, keeping his face and voice even. "You'll need evidence for such a statement," he warns.

"You left the fight. You left us in the middle of a battle with the goddesses!"

So _that_ is the reason. "I received intelligence on the weapon of the goddess clan," Meliodas says slowly. "I went to follow up."

"You lie! You left—"

"For my own reasons. And that is all you need to know."

Zeldris lets go an unearthly sort of sound, and the demon stands. "I'll let you up if you can control yourself," warns Meliodas. "But if you insist on behaving—"

"Go _fuck_ yourself!"

His brother practically spits the words at him, and Meliodas looks at him sharply. Zeldris never uses crude language—it's nearly more alarming than attacking him out of nowhere. For several moments he simply stares at his brother, wondering what could have set him off in such a way. Surely not a simply battle; did the demons suffer such great losses?

Meliodas frowns. "What happened at the battle?'

"Like you would even _care_ _—_ "

He sends another flash of _Hellblaze_ , this time with a menacing aura. It is sure to burn, having felt it himself when his father had used it on him: it makes the veins fill with a molten liquid, every nerve ending catching fire and causing enormous pain. Zeldris twitches on the ground, biting his lip hard enough to bleed to keep from calling out. Meliodas is pleased to see his senses returning to him enough to do _that_ much at least.

"Tell me what happened at the battle," Meliodas says again.

Zeldris heaves a wet sort of breath, snorting as he gains his senses. "You left," he chokes out through clenched teeth. "You left and—"

"Yes, yes, we've been _through_ this!" His patience wearing thin, he readies another attack. "Now tell me or I'll—"

 _You could rule the demon clan with fear and intimidation… but you are more cunning than that._

Meliodas blinks and shakes his head, the unwanted and unwelcome voice of Elizabeth intruding his thoughts. Why is it every time he is in the middle of doing what he is meant to do, she is there, whispering into his mind?

 _Is this what you're meant to do? Torture your brother?_

With an angry snarl he turns and sends the ball of _Hellblaze_ flying, wiping out a line of trees with a flash of dark violet flame. He grabs his sword and releases the hold on Zeldris, moving fast enough to press a boot onto his chest the moment the demon rolls over and hold the blade against his throat. "I've had enough of you," growls Meliodas. He glares down at the demon, who is staring back with equal venom. "I've had enough of all of this! Tell me what I asked for or I will take each one of your hearts!"

Zeldris heaves a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. For a moment Meliodas tenses, expecting him to spring into a fight. He presses the blade into his skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

Suddenly Zeldris' eyes change. They swirl like ink, the deep black circles receding into a dark green color. A sick sort of wonder fills Meliodas as he watches, his own demon mark reacting again to the sight. Zeldris' chest rises and falls rapidly, his hands clutching into the dirt of the ground, as the anger in his brow slowly fades into something foreign.

"Why did you leave?" he breathes. "We could have ended it. We could have… we could have killed them all."

Slowly Meliodas pulls the sword away. "Nothing will end this war," he says simply.

Despite the threat being gone, Zeldris does not move. "Why did you leave?" he asks again.

"Answer me first," replies Meliodas. "What happened? Why are you here now?"

Zeldris moves to sit up stiffly, one hand planted on the ground, the other draping over his knee. "There were heavy losses on both sides," he says in a low tone. "The demons only survived because of our numbers. The goddesses fought as if the queen herself was whipping them on."

"She practically was," Meliodas mutters.

His brother looks at him sharply. "Both sides ended up retreating. But we could have _won_. It was nearly their entire army; two of the archangels were there! With Mael gone now we have a chance, but only with _you_."

Meliodas looks away, swallowing against the burning in his throat. Perhaps they could have won with him there; perhaps not. "There is no way to guess such things," he warns, but Meliodas wonders. What if he had stayed? Would he be sitting on the throne of the Celestial kingdom right now? Would he be lying in the grass with all of his hearts carved out?

And what of Elizabeth? If the demons had won, her mother would have realized she was not praying the way she was supposed to be… the queen would have killed her, that he is certain.

He pictures her then: blue eyes dull, hair tangled in bloody clumps, her skin cold and waxy, her body still. Her lips would be parted in pain, cracked with her last breaths. Would she have thought of him? Would she have prayed for him to come, called out his name? Or would _Meliodas_ be a curse on her lips?

The image leaves him more than unsettled, so much so that Zeldris remarks, "What is wrong with you?"

A glance reveals Zeldris eyeing him from the side. "Now tell me why you left. I've answered your questions, now—"

"I found the weapon." His words cut Zeldris off, who blinks at him in surprise.

"How?" his brother asks.

Meliodas swallows, knowing he can't reveal everything. "I felt it being used. Just like before. So I followed the energy and found the source." He smiles smugly, enjoying the way Zeldris looks at him with surprise. "I killed the goddesses at the gate and entered the Celestial Realm. I fought the Supreme Deity herself. I barely escaped with my life."

"You…" Zeldris is deep in thought, folding his arms and dropping his chin as he always does when taking in information. Meliodas enjoys the superior feeling, knowing that no other demon could have such a tale to tell. But then Zeldris looks at him sharply, his are once more dark and keen as he asks, "What was it?"

His mouth goes dry at the answer. How can he tell him? It will be a death sentence for Elizabeth, who already has enough of a target on her for her own actions. Once the demon clan learns of the princess who can influence their minds, she is as good as dead. His own Commandments will see to that.

Yet as he hesitates, he wonders, why not tell him? Elizabeth's death will end many of his problems. He will be rid of her power and deal a devastating blow to the goddess clan, can hand over the girl Merlin to his father, and get himself out of this marriage all in one strike. Not to mention it would end the confusion and emotions that now plague him since meeting her. If Meliodas finds he cannot kill the girl, telling Zeldris the truth will ensure her fate.

But the prince decides to go against all he has been taught, all he knows, and break one of the most basic tenets of his clan: for the first time in his life, Meliodas lies.

"It was a spell," he says. The words come easier than he had thought, the lie weaving itself as he speaks. "They had a goddess who had powerful magic learned from mages. I slew the creature and threw its body into the earth."

Zeldris does not respond. Instead, he looks at the ground, his face a mask as he processes this. Finally he squeezes his hands into fists and says, "So some good came of this then."

Meliodas gives a half-shrug, his answer dying on his lips as Zeldris looks up at him. The green is back, shining like a jewel, and his eyes are shimmering. "I need your help."

He takes a step back, the phrase so strange he is sent into a spiral of confusion. "What are you talking about?" snaps Meliodas, gritting his teeth in agitation. "You dare mock me?"

"No." Zeldris' brows are drawn down, his mouth pressing tightly closed. "Your actions have—" The demon swallows nervously before continuing, "Our father the king is displeased with what happened. He was already in a temper about Estarossa, and now…"

Meliodas remembers how he had been tortured in the throne room, the cryptic words about his emotions, the threats. "What has he done?" he asks, his tone grave.

Zeldris slams his fist into the ground, the earth cracking underneath his hand. "He has named the vampires as traitors! The stupid king of theirs hesitated and did not send out his army until our victory was sure. And now—now they are to die."

"So what?"

" _So what_!?" Zeldris leaps at him, his fist flying, connecting with Meliodas' jaw. The demon skids across the ground from the blow, even more confused than ever, and now it is Zeldris' turn to stand over him with one foot planted squarely on his chest. "He ordered their death! I'm the executioner! I have to kill them!"

Meliodas does not fight him off, instead growling, "They are nothing but—"

"I have to kill them! I have to kill _her_!"

Zeldris' eyes go dark once more, and in a blink his sword is thrust forward. Meliodas does not hesitate, knocking his brother to the side; now they face each other once more, weapons ready. "Who do you have to kill?" the demon demands. "Tell me plain and stop these games."

"Gelda."

The word is said so quietly, he nearly misses it. "Who is Gelda?" he frowns.

The question seems to enrage Zeldris even more. "She's the princess of their clan! She is innocent in this and will die! And it's your fault!"

Zeldris advances, his sword pointed at Meliodas' chest. " _It's your fault!_ I have to destroy them because you left! If you hadn't left we would have had a decisive victory and he would not have cared about the vampires! Now I have to kill them all! I have to— _I have to_ _—_ "

Meliodas raises his arm defensively, but Zeldris stops in his tracks. He watches in alarm as Zeldris drops his sword; then slowly, as if he has lost control of his limbs, he crumples in on himself. The younger prince falls to his hands and knees, choking with a strangled noise, pressing his forehead into the dirt.

"I have to kill her you fool, don't you see? I have to kill _her_. And I can't, I can't do it! I can't—but if I don't I'll die—he'll make me wish for death!"

Zeldris explodes into a wild scream, tearing at the ground, great clumps of dirt coming free in his agony. Meliodas only watches with fascination, understanding settling onto his mind at last.

Zeldris loves this girl. Somehow, he loves this vampire, and now he must kill her.

He searches his own mind, debating his response. It matters nothing to him what fate the vampires earn; if the king _did_ hold back his armies, he and his people do deserve death. There is little doubt the princess is innocent, but innocent people become victims in war all the time. This is nothing new. There is nothing that can be done.

Yet despite his own antipathy for their fate, something _else_ begins to creep inside of his veins. For the first time, Meliodas imagines it is _himself_ sobbing into the dirt. He draws forth the image of Elizabeth, dead, but this time pictures it at his hand. He sees his sword plunging into her chest, feels her fingers losing their grip on his arms as her life drains away. He thinks of the way she would look at him in fear and pain; Elizabeth trusts him completely, despite his demon rank. Killing her would be a betrayal, one he reluctantly admits he does not wish to do.

Then, the vision worsens. Elizabeth would forgive him, if this truly was their fate. She would understand this was not his choice, that he was being forced to act by the demon king. She would be merciful, never blaming him, accepting her fate bravely. The goddess might even whisper a word of comfort to him, her last breath spent to soothe his heartache.

He clutches his head, biting back his own shout. The vision had been so real—is this what they face? Meliodas looks frantically at Zeldris, still crying, his face hidden by his arms. The demon king has sentenced the vampires to die, and set Zeldris to the task; something tells him this is not a coincidence. There is no such thing as chance when it comes to their father. Meliodas suspects the king knows _exactly_ what his order means, and what it will do to his son.

If he can do this so easily to Zeldris, and order the death of their _ally_ , what will the king do when he discovers Elizabeth is gone? What if he realizes they have some sort of connection? He had guessed at it enough the last time Meliodas was there—the king had alluded to it, although he did not understand it at the time.

 _Only fools allow themselves to fall in love, Meliodas_.

* * *

"Elizabeth!"

The goddess' head snaps upwards at her name, and her face breaks into a grin to see Merlin running towards her. "Hello there!" she laughs, holding out her arms, and a moment later they are filled with the girl.

"Elizabeth! You're okay! I was so scared. What are we doing here? What is this place?" She looks around curiously at the plants, staring accusingly at the soldiers that stand in wait. "Gowther wouldn't tell me. You will, won't you?"

"Yes, of course," she smiles, quickly looking the girl over. It's only been a short time since she last saw her but already Merlin looks older, healthier. She is a different girl now that she is clean and wearing clothes that fit; the girl even has an air of confidence that already outmatches Elizabeth's own.

Merlin is staring at her expectantly, so Elizabeth says, "This is the forest of the fairy king. And we are his guests, so we must be on very good behavior." She hurries on as Merlin opens her mouth to launch into questions, "I will explain everything, I promise. But first we must get inside where it is safe."

The girl is placated enough, even as she mopes, so the goddess stands and turns to Gowther. He wheels up, flanked on either side by a fairy, his expression warm. "Greetings, Your Highness."

"I'm glad to see you," she answers, giving a little nod. "Thank you for keeping such good care of Merlin."

"She is an exceptional child." Gowther beams proudly, and Elizabeth catches the girl shuffling her feet out of the corner of her eye.

"Of that I have no doubt." She looks at the soldiers and asks, "Is this necessary? Gowther is a guest of the king."

"He is a demon, my lady," one answers. "Even a guest of the king must abide the laws. Demons may not enter unaccompanied."

Elizabeth sighs before nodding. "I understand. Let's get inside quickly then."

They move as a unit, Elizabeth following one soldier as Merlin clutches her hand and makes excited observations, Gowther following in his chair behind, the second fairy bringing up the rear. The goddess had seen a good portion of the forest while being brought to the entrance, Gloxinia granting her request to be there when Merlin arrived.

She laughs warmly at the girl's funny opinions while chatting amicably with Gowther. Even the fairies seem relaxed despite their duties. At one point Elizabeth is struck by how very _strange_ it all is: having companions, moving about in the free world, not being under the watchful eye of everyone around her. Merlin climbs excitedly onto the top of a mushroom, which promptly bucks her off; Elizabeth flies to catch her easily, their companions laughing at the antics.

Gloxinia proves to be a gracious if not reluctant host. The party is brought to a small enclosure of trees, the king standing with arms folded as they approach. "You will stay here," he says in way of greeting. "Any closer to the Sacred Tree and the forest will begin to reject your presence.

They are given bread, fruit, and honey, the meal more delicious than any of the delicacies she had enjoyed in the palace. The trio make a picnic of it, Merlin eagerly eating twice her weight in blackberries, all while Gloxinia grills them about her health and how she came to be in their possession. The goddess sees no reason to keep the truth from him, so she gives him a full account of her journey to Belialuin and their rescue of Merlin. Gowther takes over the tale as he describes how adept the girl is at magic, having mastered a dozen spells in the two days they had been together.

Merlin soon drops off to sleep, her head in the goddess' lap. She smiles as she strokes the dark hair, the peaceful expression on her face bringing Elizabeth her own peace as she listens to Gowther conclude his story.

Gloxinia huffs. "To think I would see the day when a demon and goddess are in my forest. That I would spare the lives of not one, but two Commandments.

Elizabeth looks up sharply, but he only continues to glare at Gowther suspiciously. "I don't mind the girl. She is innocent, despite her foolishness. But did that one have to come as well?" he growls.

To his credit, Gowther leans in to bow his head. "My apologies, Your Majesty. I know that the forest is uneasy with my presence, even though I am not a demon."

"Not a demon but allied with them," snaps Gloxinia. "You hold a decree of the king."

"I do," he replies. "Some Commandments serve because they are honored by it. Some enjoy wielding the power." He eyes the fairy, his normally pleasant expression turning somber. "Others are compelled to obey. I would not wish for _you_ to ever know such a pain as carrying this decree."

"I would never debase myself in such a way," Gloxinia retorts. His wings unfurl and he takes to the air. "Know you will be watched. Any violations will be met with death."

With that he flies off in the direction of the Sacred Tree. They are settled now, their two guards still their companions. Elizabeth frowns as she watches him go off; behind her, Gowther comments, "If I may remark on how truly exceptional this situation is. It is to your credit, princess, that Merlin and I are allowed here at all."

The goddess glances over at him with a slight blush. "I didn't intend—"

"Of course, the fairies had been traditionally aligned with the goddesses, albeit out of necessity than any love for one another. It seems as though their relationship has… cooled.

"His Majesty said something like that," she sighs. "Is there anything in this world actually true? Everything I've been taught is a lie."

"Truth is a pesky little thing," Gowther muses. "It is an ugly mistress. For there are many truths, each one more dangerous than the last."

Elizabeth frowns. "I don't understand. How can truth be anything but real? If I call this grass green, it is green. That is the truth."

Gowther smiles. "Simple, but yes, you are correct. But as you delve deeper, you'll find truth slips through your fingers like water." She raises her eyebrows at him, and the Commandment smiles kindly. "For instance, which green is that? I would call it the same as the seaweed found in the sea. But you may call it the color of the emeralds in the the queen's sceptre. So who is correct?"

"We both are," she insists. "The color does not change, just the interpretation."

He chuckles. "That is precisely the point, Your Grace. Who is to say which green it is? The conflict over truth is long."

"I see what you are trying to say," Elizabeth replies softly. "The grass is like this war. My clan seeks to end the demons, because they are evil. But to the demons, it is the goddesses who are murderers." Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, her hand pressing lightly onto Merlin's back. "I see it all now, and I curse myself for remaining so blind for so long."

They fall into silence. Elizabeth continues stroking Merlin's hair, but this time, it brings little comfort. Gowther is right about the truth: it changes and twists, and she has been changed along with it. The peace that seemed possible before now feels very far away.


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Fenced Feelings

**Chapter Fifteen: Fenced Feelings**

 _Beyond the monstrous face  
Beyond the fenced feelings  
Beyond the dark night that came after our sun.  
Beyond the tongue that turned our lives,  
Into an orchestra of fights  
And we bowed for the end._

 _Beyond the screaming silence_  
 _Lies a truth that I don't want to admit._

— _Wildwhistles_

The bell jingles as they step into the tavern. It's the sort of place with an unseemly type of clientele, and the time of night where nothing good will happen. Exactly the sort of thing that Meliodas feels they need right now.

"This is disgusting," Zeldris complains, but Meliodas only grins.

"It's humans, what do you expect?" he laughs over his shoulder.

He leads his brother towards a table in a far corner of the room. The tavern is already dimly lit, but here is it nearly too dark to see. They slip into stools—Zeldris a bit more delicately than Meliodas, which makes the demon laugh—and he signals towards one of the girls carrying mugs around the room.

Instead of one of the girls, however, a burly sort of man approaches them instead. "I don't want no trouble," he says. His brows are pulled sharply together as he forms a deep frown, but something about the threat rings falsely. "Best if you leave now. You're making the customers nervous."

"I'm not leaving here until I've had a drink," Meliodas replies coolly. "My brother promised me one, and I intend for him to pay up. You don't want to make my brother a liar, do you?"

The man swallows thickly as his eyes dart to the other. Both had drawn in their powers to keep from announcing their presence in the town. Even if none of the patrons possessed any real magical abilities, the very aura of the demon princes would be enough to send them into madness. Yet despite Zeldris' demon nature being buried deep inside, the murderous look on his face is undeniable.

The barkeep's eyes travel downwards where Zeldris' curved blade sits on his hip, and Meliodas only chuckles. If this man had any idea how many heads the demon king's executioner had taken with that very blade, he would die from fright. "Well?" he says, snapping his fingers. "Two of your very best ales. My brother spares no expense."

"One d-drink," he stutters. "Just one, y-you hear?"

Meliodas shoos him away, snorting at the way he runs behind the bar to have a furious word with the bartender. Many of the other patrons have noticed them now, some huddling together and whispering over shoulders, others staring with blatant fascination. He supposes they did not do that good of a job hiding their natures.

"We're here in this god-forsaken tavern of yours," Zeldris says. "Now tell me your plan."

"Patience, brother," replies Meliodas with just a hint of warning. "We have plenty of time. The drinks haven't even arrived."

Zeldris growls but Meliodas leans forward. "Can't you just enjoy yourself for a moment? Are you that eager to get back to the demon realm and cause a scene?"

"What's there to enjoy about this?" Zeldris challenges. "Humans are vile and stupid. We are debasing ourselves and our station as demon royalty even being here."

Meliodas folds his arms. "You should learn to appreciate the humans. They do have their uses."

"Is this what you did while you were away?" Zeldris retorts. "Studying humans? Learning their uses?" He rolls his eyes with a huff before looking around disdainfully at the tavern. "Nothing more than souls to be harvested. No more than pawns of the goddess clan."

His words strike a chord within the demon. But their drinks arrive, handed over by a trembling barmaid who nearly knocks the mugs over as she places them down. Meliodas gives her a nod of dismissal and the girl scurries off without even waiting for a tip. He takes the mug and has a long drink. Not good, but not terrible, the bitterness giving the ale a bit of flavor, but Meliodas concludes it could use more grain and more heat in the brewing.

Zeldris does not touch his own, so when Meliodas has his halfway drained he places the mug down and says, "Drink up."

"I'd rather not. Don't know where these things have been."

Meliodas feels almost insulted, frowning at his brother. "You look down on them, which is fine, but you don't even want to enjoy a drink? Do you have any pleasures in life? Or is killing the only one?"

His eyes fly back to Meliodas', wide and filled with both hate and horror, and the demon grins. "There you are," he mutters as he takes another sip. "Finally I can see you."

"What are you even on about?" hisses Zeldris. As if in defiance, he takes up his cup, giving it a sniff before taking his own sip. "This is terrible."

"Tell me about your pleasures," he says in reply. "Tell me about the vampire."

Zeldris goes nearly crimson, slamming his mug down and looking away. "You don't need to know anything," he says through gritted teeth.

"I'll need all the information you have if I'm to salvage this situation," Meliodas shoots back. "How long has this been going on?"

He watches over the mug as Zeldris clenches and relaxes his fingers around his own cup. "Long enough," he finally spits out.

"Have you bedded her then?" Zeldris' furious look makes him chuckle. "I see. Any bastards I need to know about?"

"Don't you dare speak of her like that!" Meliodas raises his brows as he watches Zeldris struggle for control. His youngest brother was always the one unmoved, the one least likely to lash out in anger, the one with the cool head over his or Estarossa's. It is an interesting show to watch him now try and wrangle his own demon. "She is a princess," he hisses. "I would not defile her that way."

"So that means you haven't—"

"What it means is that I was planning to take her for my wife, you idiot. She is the daughter and heir of the royal vampires. Her station is equal to yours." Zeldris leans forward with eyes narrowed. "Don't speak of her as if she is no more than the trash you fuck in your bed."

Meliodas can feel his brow twitch, his lip curling in a bit of a challenge. Zeldris is right, of course—his partners had been far from quality for the most part, sex being nothing more than something to do. He had never considered going after a princess, someone perfect and flawless, someone—

But he has, hasn't he? He can feel his neck flush and Meliodas quickly drains his cup to cover his reaction. He thinks of what his reaction would be if someone were to call Elizabeth a whore, to ask him how many brats he had sired with such a woman. It makes his skin crawl to think of anyone saying such things, so he decides to concede the point.

Zeldris must notice something is off because he snaps, "What is wrong with you?"

"You must know it was a foolish wish to marry that girl," Meliodas chastises. "The king would never agree. You would be producing children out of our race, and Izraf is not a powerful enough ally to give you to."

"Unlike you, the crown prince, married off to a _goddess_?" Zeldris gives a bitter laugh that reminds him of a blade against stone. "What a fitting end for the next king. Your own children born with feathers, flowing golden hair?" He gives another chuckle that draws a few uncomfortable stares. "Have you found out what father was thinking with that arrangement? He couldn't have been serious. It makes no sense at all."

Meliodas stares at the table, his gaze pressing into the grain of the wood. "I don't know," he admits.

"What do you mean?" demands Zeldris. "You've met her, Estarossa told me that much."

"Yes, I met her, if you must know," Meliodas growls. "But she is… let's just say she's not what I expected. I don't know why father wants me to marry the goddess."

He reaches over and takes Zeldris' cup, tilting it back for a deep drink. As he wipes his mouth on his sleeve Zeldris is looking at him curiously. "You called him 'father'," he says. "You never call him that."

"Well he is, isn't he?" Meliodas snaps. "Now let's get to business. Tell me what you want for this girl."

Zeldris curses under his breath, staring at his hands. He smoothes his palms over the wood of the table and says slowly, "I can't kill her. I would kill the rest of them if that was my order but I cannot kill her."

"Do you want me to do it then?" quips Meliodas.

Once more his brother's eyes look at him in a threat. "She is not to be touched," he seethes. "Even if I cannot have her, I don't want her harmed. She is innocent. I want Gelda to live."

"Why don't you just take her away then?" frowns the demon. "If you want the girl so much, just take her."

"You don't understand anything." Zeldris digs his fingers into the wood, causing little splinters to lift off. "His orders were to get rid of the vampires. If I don't follow his word—"

"That was the order?" Meliodas interrupts. "Not to kill them, but to get rid of them?"

Their gazes meet for a moment before Zeldris rubs his hand on his face. "I don't know for certain. I was frozen when he gave the order."

Meliodas snorts, leaning back in his stool to smirk at the younger demon. "The king's executioner cannot listen to orders, let alone follow them. How many have you killed by mistake if that's the case?" He laughs at his joke as Zeldris remains staring down, his nostrils flaring as he holds himself back from the taunting. "If the king had not ordered the vampires to die for their cowardice, I may have ordered their death for _yours_."

Zeldris slams his hands on the table, his face twisted with rage. "And what about you? Leaving to find a weapon? I don't believe you." The charge is a heavy one, and Meliodas' eyes widen. "I don't know what you were doing and I don't care. All I know is you left the battle. And because of that, our victory was not assured, and it opened the door for the king to punish the vampires _and_ me."

He leans forward and hisses, "Take the throne. Challenge him today. We both know you can do it. Then once you're king you can take back the order. I'll still even kill the vampires if you want." Meliodas remains stoic during his plea, so Zeldris pounds his fist again. "You owe me this. You _owe_ me. And if you let him do this to me, what's to say he won't try the same to you? What will you do one day when you have something precious and the king reaches out to take it away?"

The hairs on his neck seem to lift off as fear overcomes him. Zeldris is right, of course. The king had alluded to it already, that there was a purpose for him to serve in the future, and that Elizabeth was a part of it. _I'll die first_ , he thinks to himself.

"Gentlemen." The barkeep is back, standing with hands on hips at their table. "You've had your fun. Best to—"

His head goes flying across the bar, screams erupting from the humans at the sight. Meliodas sheathes his long knife and looks at his brother. "Fine. I will make the claim, and you will back me with the others. I will take the throne, or I will die trying."

* * *

"Are all children like this?"

Elizabeth looks at Gowther with wide eyes, and the demon chuckles. "Not _all_ ," he assures her.

They turn back to Merlin, who is on at least the fourth or fifth lecture of the morning. Currently she is explaining the difference between the _Amanita muscaria_ and the _Amanita pantherina_ , which Elizabeth has deduced are types of mushrooms; but beyond that, she is rather lost. The girl is describing soil content at the moment, and while Gowther is nodding and smiling, she is pleased to see that their guard is just as confused as she.

Merlin moves on to ferns, so Elizabeth allows her mind to wander. It has been a day since Meliodas left, and her concern for him grows by the minute. She is aching to see him, because despite his demon nature she feels _safe_ with him. The princess swallows uncomfortably, thinking that all of this is her fault.

"Elizabeth!" Merlin's impatient tone snaps her back to the present. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Um, most of it," she replies with a smile, giggling a bit when she hears Gowther snicker next to her.

The girl opens her mouth to protest, but luckily the demon interjects, "Merlin, why don't you come with me down to the stream? I'll begin showing you some water magic."

With an excited cheer Merlin bounds off towards the water, disappearing through the trees. Gowther winks at Elizabeth before he follows, his chair whirring softly as it rolls over the grass.

Elizabeth sighs and stretches out a bit, thankful for the silence. Gloxinia had permitted them to stay in this small section of the forest, leaving strict instructions that stepping even a foot over their designated area would result in severe consequences. But truthfully the goddess does not mind at all. The air is fresh, the forest beautiful, and she can feel a freedom that is new and wonderful despite the limitations on their movement.

It strikes her suddenly how her life in the palace had been so much a show, and all at the benefit of her mother. Nothing she had was her own; not even her own studies, her own friends, her own clothes. Why was she even born, if not to rule? Was it only to be handed over to the demons, another pawn in her mother's game? She sighs, her eyes closing as she fights back a wave of sadness. Elizabeth does not consider herself a princess anymore. Her life and her duties are gone, replaced now by emptiness and loss.

Except, she remembers, the silver box. That had been hers, and hers alone, her secret to keep.

"Excuse me, Your Highness," a voice says.

She immediately sits up in surprise, huffing a laugh to see it is Gloxinia. Elizabeth scrambles to her feet and gives a little curtsey, smoothing her dress and folding her hands together. "Your Majesty," she replies, "it is good to see you again."

The fairy nods and looks around. "Where is the girl and the demon?"

Elizabeth clears her throat, nodding towards the trees. "Down by the water. We are staying well within your boundary."

"It is for your own protection," he says with a bit of an edge. The goddess glances at him to see Gloxinia wearing a disapproving look. "There are many ways the forest protects itself from outsiders. One false move and you would be lost forever."

"I understand," she assures him. There is an awkward pause, and then Elizabeth goes on, "Can I be of service to you?"

"Yes." Gloxinia folds his arms. Despite being shorter than Elizabeth, he has an undeniable air of authority and a sharpness that reminds her of steel—not at all unlike Meliodas, in fact. His stature does nothing to soften the seriousness in his expression. "I want to propose an alliance."

"An alliance?" she repeats. "Between…"

"The fairies and goddesses," he finishes. "Your clan is powerful, and so are we. But neither will succeed alone. If we join forces, then we can defeat the demons once and for all. Once we are aligned the giants will certainly join us as well."

Elizabeth's heart beats rapidly, sweat breaking out on her neck. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty… as much as I would like to end this war, I don't believe I'd be of any service to you."

His frown turns to a scowl. "Do you align with the demons then? Is that why you brought that thing to my forest?"

She bristles a bit, trying to remain calm, calling on the lessons of diplomacy that she had learned in her upbringing. "My wish is for all the clans of Britannia to live in peace," she says tightly. "There is no need to choose between demons or goddesses. There is no reason why we can't all just live."

"Your view on the world is too simple," he scolds her. "Once you have some experience then you will see. It is one or the other. Peace between demons and goddesses is impossible."

"How can you say that?" Elizabeth forgets her formal stance as she clenches her fists. "We aren't that different, except in the most superficial ways. Of all that I have learned I have not seen one shred of evidence otherwise. And you would form an alliance to simply reinforce these divides!"

Gloxinia glowers at her, his mood going dark, and for a moment she is afraid he will attack her, or at the least throw them out of the forest. The trees and the grass and even the air itself seems to respond to his change in demeanor. Her dress begins to billow around her legs, her hair lifting as the breeze grows stronger, all of the forest bending to his will.

But Elizabeth remains firm, and after several moments of this, the air shifts again. Gloxinia's shoulders relax and the forest goes back to its calm familiarity. She looks at him with thanks, but the king still seems agitated, so she waits.

"You must understand something," he finally says. "I'm not trying to divide the clans. This division was wrought long ago. It cannot be healed."

"But why?"

He looks at her sharply. "It came with the rise of the demon king. The goddesses and the demons kept to their realms, and did not interfere except for the occasional scuffle. But once the king placed himself as the head of the clan and organized the chaos into a kingdom, then the rest of the world responded." Gloxinia tips his head east, towards the Sacred Tree. "It was not long after the Supreme Deity's rise to power that the tree chose me as the first fairy king. Even _our_ clan began to prepare for war."

Elizabeth frowns, this information running through her mind. She believes him, but it is so different from the stories she had been told of how the war began that it makes her light headed. Another lie at the hands of the goddesses. "It doesn't have to be this way," she says quietly.

"And how do you suggest ending the war?" His tone is kind, but holds a hit of mockery. "One or the other will win. It does not matter if the fairies align with the goddesses or demons. But we must align with someone."

"Unless we all win," she says quietly. "You forget, the demons and goddesses could align."

Gloxinia frowns. "How?"

"With a marriage," Elizabeth grins.

* * *

Meliodas enters the Fairy King's Forest with senses on high alert. His arms are sore and there is blood drying on his neck, but he ignores it and pushes on. Elizabeth is somewhere here, and he cannot rest until he sees that she is safe.

The fairy king had agreed to protect her, but his word means nothing to Meliodas. The only reason why the demon had even agreed was to find information on the goddess' movements. Running into Zeldris—or rather, his brother coming for _him_ —had delayed his goal, which was unacceptable. Now all he wants is to see that she is safe so he can rest.

 _Only fools allow themselves to fall in love, Meliodas_.

"That's not what this is," he mutters to himself. There is no challenge yet from the fairies, but he can feel something watching him. Probably the forest itself, he surmises. It is well after midnight, more than a two days since he had last step foot here. The demon wonders if the king had lifted the protections for his return.

Gloxinia had proven to be an interesting one. He is an adversary Meliodas did not expect to come across, especially as the fairies had retreated from the world and the war. His power is undeniable, however, and even though the demon is confident that he could beat him in a one-to-one fight, it would be more effort than it is worth.

Besides, now that he is about to take the throne of the demon clan, having an ally could prove to be useful.

He shakes the thought of what is to come away, focusing on getting to Elizabeth. If he has any hope of accomplishing his goals then he must ensure her safety. Meliodas had always assumed that Elizabeth would be a lovely bargaining chip for him to use one day. Whether to force his father to do his own bidding or wrench control from the queen, her usefulness would surely come, and more likely sooner than later.

Yet that is far from his mind now. Part of it is sheer exhaustion; when was the last time he slept? Days ago, after his torture in the throne room, Meliodas supposes, although he was briefly unconscious after facing the Supreme Deity. His face grows hot remembering both occasions, aggravated at being humbled so thoroughly by them both. If _he_ cannot find a way to overcome either monarch, what hope did he have of ruling or destroying his enemies?

Meliodas smiles to himself as he thinks, _that's where Elizabeth will come into play_. Her powers to control the demons and her rank in her clan will only boost his own strength. He hates to admit it, but they are well matched as partners. His power and her magic can be combined to become an incredible force in battle. Facing his father will only be the first part of his plan to bring revenge and end the war; doling out justice on the queen truly motivates him now.

But first, he must sleep, and to do that, he must settle his nerves by ensuring she is safe.

He can sense her calm energy easily, turning his path towards what he assumes is their camp. First, however, he stumbles onto a small creek… and there under the moonlight he finds her.

Her silver hair shimmers in the cool white light, her wings are spread in a canopy of soft feathers. She is halfway into the stream, cupping the water to splash on her bare arms. His mouth goes dry at the rivulets of drops sliding along her white skin. Elizabeth is an absolute vision.

Meliodas cannot tear his eyes away. The lust that had been stoked before returns, sending an exciting pulse through his body. Without realizing it he shrugs out of his vest, his hands working the buckle on his belt. His eyes narrow as he watches his prey. The prince of demons sees something he _wants_ , something that is not death or war or revenge. Something beautiful, something he cannot have—and he knows this, and it makes him want her all the more.

His fingers are trembling as he pulls open his trousers. Elizabeth has not noticed him yet, looking over her shoulder as her wings stretch outward. Then his eyes lock on her hands as she begins to lower the straps of her gown.

 _Look away,_ he orders himself, and he freezes. Why should he? Meliodas is the greatest of demons. All of Britannia is his to take and use as he sees fit. And by the gods, it has been so _long_ since he felt this: felt such want, felt such desire to touch, to hold, to possess. His emptiness has been slowly filling since meeting the goddess, and it had startled him to feel. Now it is the opposite, he is feeling _too much_ , the appetite for the goddess clashing loudly inside his brain with his instinct to protect her.

But what does Elizabeth need protection from, other than himself?

She pulls her arms from the straps and uses one to cover herself, catching the fabric across her forearm as she presses it against her breasts. Meliodas swears under his breath at this torture, deciding to stay put or else be a true threat to the princess. Reluctantly his hands move from the opening of his pants as he watches her other hand sink back into the water. His eyes drag along her chest as she bends forward, now partially exposed, his mouth watering—before she is gone in a blink.

Meliodas sputters for a moment before she appears again, laughing as she splashes back to the surface. One arm remains braced against her breasts as the other pushes her wet hair backwards, her wings shaking out the excess water, as Meliodas blinks in surprise. He is a _fool_ , his intent on her so sharply focused he could not even see her move under the water.

The heart-stopping moment of losing her snaps him out of the intensity of his new infatuation. His pulse is still thumping wildly, and his lips form a dark grin. Meliodas will get her back for being so tantalizing.

He moves to the water. Meliodas does not continue with undressing, but slips under the surface in his pants, swimming silently underwater. It is too dark to see, but she is easy to find, and moments later he comes face-to-face with the fabric of her dress swirling around long, shapely legs. Without a noise or a splash he rises up, his hands going around the curve of her hips, and he yanks her backwards as he breaks the surface in surprise.

Elizabeth gives a shout but he covers her mouth with his hand. Meliodas manages to avoid the fluttering of her wings and tilts her backwards, resting her head on his chest. She seems panicked, which makes him chuckle, his eyes sliding lazily down the white throat and creamy skin of her chest. Elizabeth tightens her arms around herself, pushing her breasts upwards, and Meliodas wishes he had grabbed her arms instead so he could see the water lapping at her curves and the color of her nipples.

"Elizabeth," he murmurs in her ear. To his somewhat surprise she relaxes instantly; instead of struggling, she turns her face to look at his. Her eyes are still wide in shock but free of panic; Elizabeth reaches up to grab his hand and he allows her to pull it from her mouth.

"Your Highness," she breathes. Then she actually chuckles, biting her lip. "You scared me."

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" growls Meliodas. His lips hum against her ear, and he swears he feels her shiver in his hold. His eyes close as he struggles not to kiss her neck, or drag his nose along the slope of her shoulder. The demon who lusted for the goddess is on the other shore, and he vows to remain composed.

She turns a bit in his hold so she can look at him properly over her shoulder. "I couldn't sleep," she admits. "I wondered where you were, and I was afraid…"

Her eyes go downwards, as if ashamed, and his follows, taking in her shoulders and chest. Elizabeth catches him looking and quickly pulls from his hold, making a tiny noise as she hastily pulls up the straps of the dress over her shoulders. Meliodas only chuckles and swims behind her, climbing out onto the grassy bank with his eyes never leaving her form.

The dress clings delightfully to her body. Elizabeth pauses for a moment to wring the water from her hair, then bends over to give him another lovely view as she scoops up a pair of delicate sandals. Has he ever just ogled a woman before, ever appreciated round curves and smooth skin, ever felt his heart skip at the slope of a neck or the dip of a waist? The demon cannot recall _ever_ feeling this way before, and it excites him and thrills him. _She is mine, all mine._

"Where have you been?" she asks, turning to look at him. Her face holds nothing but curiosity.

"I saw my brother," answers Meliodas.

"Your brother?" she frowns.

"He wasn't pleased to see me."

"Is that the one who…" Elizabeth presses her lips together and glances away. "The one who killed Mael?"

Meliodas shakes his head, planting hands on hips. "No. The other one. You met him at Belialuin."

She looks thoughtful as she combs her fingers through her hair, so Meliodas huffs, "The idiot has gone and fallen in love."

"Really? That's so beautiful!" sighs Elizabeth, her face lighting up in a grin.

He jerks an eyebrow upwards. "Beautiful? It's going to get them both killed. One, at the least."

Her hand covers her mouth. "That's awful! Why can't they—"

"It's not meant to be." Elizabeth's questions are making him uncomfortable, and he is reluctant to reveal to her his plan to remove the king from the throne in just a few hours. "This is what happens when a demon falls in love with one that is not of our own kind."

Once the words are out of his mouth, Meliodas feels truly ridiculous. His skin is burning in humiliation and irritation, but the goddess takes no notice. Instead, she seems to be thinking, finally musing aloud, "I never knew that—"

Elizabeth catches herself, leaving Meliodas to feel his anger rise. "Never knew what?" he challenges. "That demons were capable of falling in love?"

She does not answer, not that she has to; for some reason, he feels badly at her silent confession. He should not care what she thinks, but he _does_ , and it is infuriating, and it leaves a dull ache inside of his chest. Meliodas grows impatient with them both, but after a long moment she whispers, "Have you ever?"

 _Maybe_ , his mind whispers.

 _Only fools allow themselves to fall in love, Meliodas_.

"Where are the others?" he asks, turning away.

"Sleeping. It's late, in case you hadn't noticed."

Meliodas nods, jerking his chin towards her. "Let's go. I need to talk to Gloxinia before I leave."

"You're leaving again?" Her voice sounds small, almost hurt, and his brows draw down as she moves to stand in front of him. "I was hoping…"

Her voice drifts away, so he prompts, "Hoping what?"

"To… see more of you, I suppose." He blinks as her eyes travel over his face. "The king and I spoke today, and I wanted to ask…"

Elizabeth licks her lips, which sends his stomach into a flip. "Do you think we will be able to end this war?"

Her innocence on display only makes the strange ache inside of him twist a bit. "I don't know," he answers truthfully. "It may not be up to either of us."

"I think we can," she murmurs. Meliodas finds himself staring at her lips, now wet from her tongue, looking round and ripe. "If we… I mean, if you wanted to…"

"Spit it out, goddess," he snaps.

Elizabeth sucks in a sharp breath; then with her eyes steady on him, she says, "If we marry, then we can form an alliance between goddesses and demons. Then the war will end."

The forest is silent, as if shocked by her words, and the demon is no less so. "Marry?" he asks incredulously. "Now you want to marry me?"

The goddess begins to blink rapidly, taking a step back, her confidence draining from her instantly. Meliodas is sure if there was more light he would see her turn red. "I… Well I always assumed that it would happen…"

"Because your mother said so." He takes a step towards her, and she steps back again. "Even now, after all this, you'll do what that bitch wants?"

Her eyes go wide, and he nearly laughs; but then they narrow as she glares at him. "Of course not. I've seen the truth. You showed me the truth."

"I have much more to show you," he smirks, taking another threatening step towards her.

But if Elizabeth notices his joke, she makes no sign. Instead she continues, "I want to marry you because it's the right thing to do."

Meliodas freezes. That is the last thing he expected to hear. "The right thing to do?" The idea is ludicrous. "What happened to all that about love?"

She sucks in a sharp breath, her hands twisting into the wet dress. "I think…"

"Because marrying me means more than sitting on a throne and giving orders, princess." He moves close enough that they are nearly touching, and with one swift movement Meliodas hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. The goddess gives a squeak of surprise, but does not struggle in his grip. They are both damp from the swim, but her skin feels cool, calming against his own searing flesh. Elizabeth is like a soothing balm for the dragon that lives inside of him, even without using her powers, and the demon thinks her lips would taste like a refreshing drink.

His eyes zero in on those lips as he says, "You would be my wife in every way. You would be mine. You would have my children."

"I know." Her whisper comes through her parted lips; then, incredibly, he feels her hands tentatively on his shoulders. His eyes flicker up to hers, cautious but determined. "I know what giving myself to you would mean."

"Give yourself to me." Is it a statement, or a question? An idea, or a request? Even Meliodas cannot tell, but he is filled with her now, his arms and his eyes and his nostrils, her fingers firm on his shoulder, her scent that of a summer rain, the round lips just an inch from his now, her breath warm and sweet against his forehead.

"I trust you." His arms tighten around her, one hand pressing against her spine. The ends of her damp hair brush the back of his fingers. "I…"

Meliodas tilts his head upwards. A taste, that's all he wants: a taste, nothing more. Just to know what it would be like, if he accepted her offer, if he went through with this promise made for him by those he now hated, if he took this princess and made her a queen, if he became the demon who married a goddess. There are so many implications of this: for their clans, for the war, for the power of their races, for Britannia itself. So many things to go wrong, so many lives hanging in the balance, including their own.

But for now, he simply wants a taste. Their lips brush together, and he feels her sigh. Then he guides his mouth against hers, finally, the kiss soft and hesitant, neither sure what to do. He had done this so many times, with so many he had met over the years. There is always this moment of _just before_ , when the anticipation reaches its peak. As flesh meets flesh, however, Meliodas wishes for _this_ to linger just a bit longer. Usually he pushes past that feeling and falls headlong into taking and taking what he wants, for _waiting_ does not suit the prince. Yet this time he allows it, letting it last until eventually that instinct takes over: one hand goes to the back of her head, gripping her hair and tilting her to the side so he can have his taste.

Her fingers trail along his shoulders and to his neck; the shiver this sends through him is real and deep and unlike anything he has felt before. Silently he prays for her to do it again, but instead she tries kissing him _back_ —it's not what he expected, and he freezes under her lips opening.

Meliodas debates pulling away, even opening his eyes to gauge what to do. But she's here, she is _right here_ , and the temptation wins. Slowly he dips his tongue into her mouth, tasting sweet and savory at the same time. He is rewarded with her fingers stroking him again; this time, they graze just under his hairline, twisting into the strands that hang down to his shoulders.

Haltingly he does it again, and again. There is no need to hurry—but there _is_ , _Zeldris is waiting_ , his destiny is _waiting_ , but how can he stop? Elizabeth responds, her own tongue meeting his, and Meliodas slides his hand around her hip, trying to memorize her figure, how she feels against him, how she sounds with each little sigh.

Once more his eyes close on their own. The demon surrenders himself, finally, to her; the kiss goes on, no sounds but their quick breaths and lips moving. It could be a minute or an hour, he does not know. Meliodas does not know _anything_ but the goddess and the way she tastes, and he curses himself for waiting for so long. How could he have denied himself this?

He nips her lip then, hard enough to be sharp but no real pain. Elizabeth gives a gasp that rolls through him like lava. By all the gods, he would push her to the grass right now, he would take what is his by birthright, even if it meant their death. He knows now why Zeldris would fight, would cry and beg in the dirt for the life of another. It seemed so _impossible_ , nothing but madness. Now he is overcome, another fool in love, and as she finally pulls away, he cannot catch his breath.

"Meliodas," she breathes, and he would kill anyone to hear it every day.

Struggling for some kind of composure, he opens his eyes, and she smiles. "Yes, I would marry you."

Meliodas swallows thickly. "I'll be back. I need to help my brother. The king has sentenced his love to die."

Sorrow fills her expression; her lips part as if to speak, but instead she nods. He should tell her his plan, but something stops him.

The demon pulls his hands away as her own slip from behind his neck. The two stare at one another for a long moment, the spell broken now, reality returning like the tide, and then he takes to the sky towards the demon realm.

* * *

 **A/N:** Very sorry for another delay. Work has been very hectic and I have had very little free time. Thank you so much for your patience and continuing to read. Your messages and comments have kept me focused and going, so thank you.

I must give all my love to my beta, Galfridus. Without her this chapter and this story would not be happening. You are incredible and I thank you for everything.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Clash and Capture

**Chapter Sixteen: Clash and Capture**

 _Then out spake brave Horatius,  
The Captain of the gate:  
'To every man upon this earth  
Death cometh soon or late.  
And how can man die better  
Than facing fearful odds,  
For the ashes of this fathers,  
And the temples of his Gods.'_

— _Thomas Babington_

The moment Meliodas arrives in the demon realm, he realizes his first mistake: he has forgotten to see Gowther and take his decree. He needs the power of the king in order to successfully overthrow his father. Now he will need to face him with only nine instead of ten.

As this truth settles on him, Meliodas sees his second mistake: assuming his movements in Britannia are unnoticed. Standing before him on the short path that leads to the king's fortress is his tutor, Chandler. The prince knows that the old man would do anything for him, and that includes stopping him from what could be a suicide mission. But he wonders if Chandler is here for himself, or on behalf of the king; neither matter, he decides. Nothing will stop him from taking his prize.

"My prince," Chandler calls in greeting, bowing low. But the tutor's eyes never leave his, and Meliodas draws himself up to look down at the demon, as he has thousands of times before in all the years since his birth.

"What do you want?" he demands.

Chandler stands slowly. "Your desires are my own," he replies, and Meliodas notices the careful way he speaks. "For the poets say—"

"Fuck your poets, what do you _want_?"

"—the poets say, _My will takes the place of all reason_."

The prince glares at him. "I have no time for this foolishness. Now get—"

"Excuse me, Your Grace," Chandler interrupts. The two stare at one another, and Meliodas cannot recall one instance in which his tutor had ever interrupted him while speaking.

His face feels as though it is draining of blood, his eyes widening slightly, but the tutor regards him with the same calm expression. "Forgive my rudeness," he continues. "But it is a necessary evil. As it is said, _One must be cruel to be kind_."

"Yet they also say, _Only the weak are cruel_ ," Meliodas snaps back. Chandler looks surprised as his response, but his annoyance at the delay does not allow him any satisfaction. "So you and your poets can get out of my way."

Chandler gives an abbreviated bow. "If I only I could, my prince," he answers quietly.

"I see." His fingers itch for his sword, which he is moments from calling. "You've been sent here to stop me."

"Only to save you, my prince," replies the demon. "You are not ready."

Meliodas lifts his chin in a sneer. "You would dare stand before me with your lies?"

"Lies, Your Grace?" Chandler seems almost offended, if that is possible. "Have we not all been taught, _Wisdom is only found in truth_?"

The prince struggles between the urge to engage in this debate and the need to strike him down with a blow. Although Chandler is little more than one more thorn in his side, the old demon had been a faithful servant and tutor, one that had raised him since he could walk. If Meliodas was to ever feel affection for another—before he had met Elizabeth, that is—it would be for him.

It is because of this and this alone that Meliodas replies with a measured voice, "I am challenging the king. You cannot stop me, Chandler."

The demon's shoulders sag a bit and he steps closer. "Come, my dear prince," he says, the soothing voice so familiar it makes his stomach turn, "let us go and talk. You are so close to being ready, but this is folly, you must know this."

He reaches out to take hold of his arm, but Meliodas yanks away. "Why?" he demands. "Why not? The king has been on me for ages to do my duty. All my life I've done _nothing_ but prepare for this moment. I was created for this. I was born to take the throne. I was raised and molded and beaten to become what I am, to become the king. And now, as I decide to take what is mine—what I am owed as my _right_ —you would see me turn away as a coward?"

Their dark eyes meet, and he notes Chandler struggling to keep his composure. "Nothing, Your Grace?" he echoes. "You've done nothing else? Demons do not lie."

"And I have spoken none," says Meliodas.

Chandler's nose twitches. "None, nothing, not a thing, my prince?" His voice is tight, and Meliodas frowns slightly at the odd behavior. "You are powerful, yes, so very _powerful_ , your magic and strength and lust for blood so perfect, so…" The tutor looks as though he is falling into a trance, his gaze going soft and unfocused. "You were perfect, the perfect specimen, the perfect demon, the one to take the throne and lead us, yes, _yes_ , the next king—"

"What are you _saying_?" Meliodas roars.

"—and yet, and _yet_ , you left, didn't you? You did nothing else, nothing nothing nothing but _leave_ , didn't you?"

Meliodas sucks in a breath, calling his sword to his hand. _So this is why he rants_ , he thinks. Chandler has caught him on a technicality. A lie in the demon clan is akin to treason; the betrayal of it is sending Chandler into a tailspin. He had seen this once before, when the tutor had stood against someone in the court bent on disciplining Meliodas. The normally temperate demon had wavered between sense and insanity until his wrath had erupted in a wave of power that the prince had never before witnessed.

The demon continues his tirade, his look one that is lost. "You did nothing else, Your Grace, nothing _else_. Nothing else? Nothing but leave, and live among the humans, nothing but leave your place by his side, leave the Commandments, leave the demon clan."

"And I returned," Meliodas argues, trying to stem the rambling.

"Yes, yes, you returned, you _returned_ but as the prince? The prince who did everything? Everything, so much, so _powerful_ you are." Chandler nods his head repeatedly, reaching out for him. "So much power, so much for the king, and then you left again, left to go see her. You were not to go, Your Grace, you were not to see _her_ but you did, you did nothing, _nothing else_ —"

"How did you know?" he roars. Chandler seems to snap from his frenzy, blinking at him. "How do you know where I have been?"

Chandler looks stunned for a moment; then his eyes narrow to slits. "You are not the king," he says. "You are a traitor to our clan."

The word _traitor_ makes his bones ache. "Traitor," hisses Meliodas. "Traitor? You stand here before your prince, whom you have sworn to serve, keeping me from my throne and you dare call me _traitor_?"

"I would never have believed it!" Chandler's voice rises as he shouts at the prince. "But you—you saved that girl. That girl, you went there, you were supposed to be _fighting_ , but you went there and you saved her! And you took her—where? Where did you go?"

Meliodas watches in alarm as Chandler draws his sword; it is curved and black and has dents from the skulls of his enemies. The act itself is not as alarming as the knowledge that the one demon he thought he could trust more than any other is now threatening him. Meliodas pulls his own weapon up, ready to defend himself, the irony of using the same moves taught to him by his tutor leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

As if in some twist of irony, Chandler says, "The poets have written, _true betrayal begins with the truth_."

"The truth?" Meliodas steps to the side, watching him closely. If he can keep him talking, then he can think of a way out of this—and possibly get some information. "The truth, Chandler, that is all I want. My father has given my hand in marriage to the daughter of the Supreme Deity, yet wages war against them. He wants me to be king of our clan, and yet as I come for the crown he sends _you_ to stop me. He is eager for me to bed the girl and take her for my own, and yet I am named traitor for saving her life. So what is the truth, Chandler? Do you even know anymore?"

As he finishes his speech, he flinches to see Chandler bare his teeth. "You think you know," he seethes. "You think you know what they want? None of us _know_ , my dear prince. We are here to serve."

"I serve no one," Meliodas replies firmly.

The demon mark on Chandler's forehead bursts into a black flame, the magic that surrounds his soul flashing outwards as he lets loose a wild scream. "We serve the _king_! The _king_!"

Meliodas parries his advance, staying on defensive, the old demon's moves familiar and recalling days doing just this when he was young. It had been ages since they fought, and never had they fought for _real_ ; even before Meliodas was strong enough and trained enough to beat him, Chandler had always held back, just a bit. Killing the crown prince would be a death sentence—and even more than that, Meliodas had suspected that Chandler truly cared about his charge.

The care and comfort is gone, replaced by a raging demon bent on stopping him. He still screams as they fight— _"Nothing else, nothing else, the prince left nothing else, you must stop, stop him"_ —but Meliodas has no time to piece it all together. They fight with swords, keeping magic out of it, until the combination of Meliodas' strength and youth overcomes the flawless technique of the elder demon.

Chandler is a master of combat and so reads the end is near, so he shoots into the air. He swipes his blade in the prince's direction and calls, " _Exterminate Ray_!"

It takes Meliodas a hair of a second to process—Chandler had sent his most devastating attack at him—before his own weapon is singing through the air. " _Full Counter_!"

An explosion of light and wind overtake the realm. The force nearly knocks the prince backwards; but he will not be bowed, not now, when he is so _close_. The desire for the throne is still heavy in his mind, but now it is accompanied by the want to punish Chandler, to crush him. He wants to see him in the ground, to pay him back for his defiance. For refusing direct commands.

For picking his _father_ over _him_.

"You dare." The demon's voice carries through the smoke now rising from the ground, his silhouette coming into view as the cloud of dirt and ash dissipates. "You dare to use _Full Counter_ against me."

Meliodas forces his hands not to shake. "Do you regret teaching it to me?" he calls.

Chandler finally appears, and curiously, he seems his normal self. "Not at all," replies the demon, a small smile appearing. "To think one day I would witness this, my prince, my _boy_ , so powerful."

The change in demeanor is startling, but not entirely unexpected. "The poets say, _Poor is the pupil who does not surpass his master_ ," he says, quieter now.

"Then you see," replies Meliodas. "It is time for me to become the king."

His arms are still trembling from the surge of power. The certainty he carried in defeating the king now has a tiny crack, but it is not enough to deter him from his pursuit. Chandler bows his head, heaving a deep breath. "Just one question, one answer. To humor your old Chandler, your most faithful servant."

Their eyes connect as Chandler asks, "Why?"

Why—it is a question Meliodas had been asking himself for weeks, since his return. Why, why him, why now? Why did Zeldris come to _him_ for help, why did his vampire have to die? Why did Estarossa have to be so careless, why did he shoulder that sin? Why is he here, why did he go to the Celestial Realm, why did he not leave with the queen's head on a platter?

And Elizabeth. Why were they promised to one another? Why did she invite him to her palace? Why did he find her so enchanting, so intriguing, so much so that he has committed treason by the simple act of not cutting her in half? Why was he here now, to depose his own father, just to ensure her safety?

He has no answer, and Chandler can see that. The tutor's eyes widen in realization.

But before he can speak and before Meliodas can answer there is sound from every direction, and the ground breaks into craters as the Ten Commandments arrive.

At once the air is electric with their powers. Meliodas simply stands and watches the air settle once more, his gaze calculated and bored with the threatening way they move to encircle him. "One wasn't enough?" he calls out, smothering a yawn. "He had to send his dogs as well. The old man must be afraid."

"Meliodas." Surpised at the tone, he turns as his gaze connects with Estarossa. Each day that goes by he turns away from the eager younger sibling ready to follow directly in his footsteps and becomes a frighteningly shrewd fighter in his own right. "You have been accused of treason to the king, conspiracy to commit mutiny, and comforting the enemy. You are to be taken to the dungeons at once, where you will await the king's judgment."

"Is that so?" Meliodas grins despite the danger. He has never taken on all of them at once; individually they have no chance, but this? This could be a fun game.

Elizabeth and the forest and the whole damn mess is pushed aside as he allows his dark magic to press outward. His Commandments have been trained to have no fear, to _always_ be ready to fight, their commitment sealed by the ever-present demon mark. He shifts his sword from his right to his left—no sense in giving them an advantage—his mouth curling with a cruel smile. "So?" he calls. "Who will be first to die?"

"You arrogant _ass_ ," hisses Derieri.

"Jealousy does not suit you," he smirks in reply.

From the side Calamadios growls, "So you admit it." Meliodas' eyes dart to the side, taking in the brooding demon. He observes as Calamadios clenches his fists tightly, ready to attack. "Our prince and captain nothing but a goddess fucker."

Galand lets out a great laugh as Melascula chastises, "Must you be so vulgar?"

"Regardless of what language is used," Monspeet says darkly, "he has admitted his treason." Meliodas glares at him as he glares back. "We cannot allow him to escape."

"Enough talk!" They all look at Derieri, who seems absolutely _furious_ at the banter. She is clearly struggling to keep a hold of her anger, and her dark eyes seem to burn two holes straight through Meliodas. "Tell us where the goddess is."

"She is mine," he answers.

"The king wants her," giggles Melascula. "So just tell us where we can find her, okay?"

The idea sends a chill through Meliodas. He adjusts his sword in his hand as the other readies a ball of _Hellblaze_. "I will be your king soon," he replies. "And when I am, you will all pay for this betrayal."

The tension in the air thickens, as everyone prepares for the fight. But then Estarossa steps forward, and Meliodas zeroes in on his brother. "Enough," is all he says.

It is one thing to have the others encircling him with their threats, but to see Estarossa feels oddly different. "Get out of my way, Estarossa," Meliodas threatens. "I don't care if you're my blood or not. I will kill you just like the others."

"You're not doing this for the throne," he replies, looking at him shrewdly. "Something happened to make you do this. Why won't you tell us?"

"There is nothing to tell."

"He lies," Galand pronounces, and several pairs of furious eyes look on him, unflinching.

But Meliodas does not care. "Your decree cannot affect me, since I am still one of you."

"Something we can take care of _right now_ ," snaps Derieri.

"Wait." Estarossa holds up a hand, looking at him once more. There is something different about him, something Meliodas cannot name; something surer, something sicker. He thinks of the humans so casually used in his room, the way that he tore Mael's heart from his chest. Estarossa looks as though he is not paying attention, his demeanor less egoistic than his, and less driven than Zeldris. But there is an ambition there, beneath the surface, and Meliodas wonders what it is that his brother covets.

"Gowther, find out where the princess is," orders Estarossa.

Meliodas swings quickly to go, but before he can escape Gowther's magic he feels a jolt of light hitting his head. The demon gapes at him, wondering if his creator knows what his doll has just done; weren't they supposed to be allies in this? But surely the true Commandment had not been able to give instructions to the doll, who is defaulting to following orders given by high-ranking demons.

"Princess Elizabeth is currently in the Fairy King's Forest," replies Gowther.

A round of snide comments go up as Estarossa says, "Zeno, Aranak, get there and get that goddess. Bring her here, alive if possible."

"No!"

They are gone in a blink, leaving Meliodas to sputter after them in the dirt. His wings expand to take off, but then he is hit by a series of attacks that leave him on his back. As the remaining Commandments move in, the demon knows that he will have to fight his way out. His full wrath explodes inside of him, and with the desire to kill he stands and faces the others.

* * *

Elizabeth leans against the trunk of a tree, watching Merlin splashing on the edge of the stream. Gowther had taught her some water magic that morning, and the girl makes sounds of delight as she creates pictures of animals with floating water droplets.

"Look, Elizabeth!"

Tiredly the goddess glances at the beaming girl holding a three dimensional dragon in her hand. The shape and detail are actually remarkable, and her ability to make such a thing in such a short time a true testament to her talents and Gowthers abilities as a tutor.

But Elizabeth feels distracted and says blandly, "That's very nice."

Her eyes go unfocused again as she thinks of the demon and the kiss they had shared. He had held her before, but this time it was with a mixture of strength and desire, and she could feel the strain of his power as he held it back. And his mouth… she had never thought a kiss could feel like that, so lovely yet sinful, the sensation of his tongue sliding along her own, letting him claim her, letting him suck on her lips-

"Elizabeth! You're not paying attention!"

The goddess jolts from her fantasy, embarrassed by the burning on her cheeks and the warmth now pooling like liquid fire in her core. "I'm sorry, Merlin," she says in a rush.

The girl frowns and moves to stand in front of her. "Are you okay? What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"It was Meliodas, wasn't it?" Elizabeth's eyes go wide in alarm as Merlin sits next to her on the grass, holding her legs as she faces the goddess. "Don't deny it. You always get this thing around your eyes when he's around. Like your eyes relax."

Her hands fly to her cheeks, and she squeals, "They do not!"

Merlin laughs until she is shaking, tipping over as she holds her stomach. After a moment Elizabeth's lips twist and she chuckles too, smiling down at the girl as she settles her head in the goddess' lap. She smoothes her fingers through Merlin's wild hair as her laughter dissolves into giggles. "Well, maybe a bit," Elizabeth admits.

"Do you love him?" asks Merlin.

Elizabeth sucks in a sharp breath, her heart beginning to pound. "I must marry him," she says quietly.

"Really?" Merlin is quiet for a moment, thinking. "It makes sense," she finally decides. "The two strongest clans forming an alliance through marriage. But then why have a war?"

"That's what I want to know too," Elizabeth replies softly.

Merlin looks up at the sky, her eyes scanning the clouds, as Elizabeth braids her hair. It is a lovely, peaceful moment, and the goddess thinks, _This is what I want… peace…_

"I like you, Elizabeth," Merlin says, her voice small, her cheeks flushing a bit.

Elizabeth smiles again. "I like you too, Merlin."

"Now that my family is dead, will you be my mother?"

Her heart squeezes at the girl's blunt question. Her golden eyes slide over to the goddess, and Elizabeth knows in that moment that she would give her life for the little girl. "You don't have to if you don't want to," Merlin mumbles.

"Merlin," Elizabeth says gently. "You have a mother. Even if she is gone, she is still in your heart. She loves you and she is watching over you. And I'm sure she is so, so proud."

"You think so?"

Merlin's expression is hopeful, and Elizabeth nods. "I'm sure of it. All mothers care for their daughters."

The reassurance makes Merlin smile and relax back onto her lap, even as Elizabeth feels her own emotions welling. But that is something she cannot burden the girl with, so quickly she continues, "What about a big sister? That way I can take care of you _and_ we can be friends."

"Okay!" Merlin agrees. Then she rolls over and glares seriously at Elizabeth. "Since we're sisters now, you have to tell me the truth. You didn't answer my question about Meliodas. Do you love him?"

"Merlin!" Elizabeth yelps, and the girl falls into a fit of giggles again. "You do! I knew it!" Elizabeth begins to protest as Merlin teases her, the two girls exchanging jokes and laughter, their voices ringing through the quiet forest.

So focused on their game neither notice as an energy approaches, until Merlin jumps to her feet. "Elizabeth!" she shouts. "There is something—"

She is cut off as the ground explodes, trees ripped from their roots, branches and chunks of dirt sending them flying. Elizabeth uses her wings to try and keep herself from tumbling from the force of it, screaming for Merlin, reaching her hands out desperately to try to grab a hold of the girl. But it is too much, and even as she hears the girl's voice calling for her in terror her body goes skimming backwards over the grass and rocks, her skin slicing into cuts over the rough surface.

The goddess slams against a tree and falls to the ground. She struggles to her hands and knees, her hearing muffled and head spinning. Yet she opens her eyes, wincing as a trickle of blood falls into her vision. "Merlin?" she calls, peering into the cloud of dirt as it settles. "Merlin! Where are you?"

"Elizabeth!" She can hear the fear in Merlin's voice despite it being muted through the ringing in her ears. "Elizabeth, help!"

"I'm coming," she croaks out, but as she begins to stand something takes hold of her arm and yanks her to the side.

A hand covers her mouth, and when she twists in fear she sees it is Gowther. He lets her go and murmurs, "Stay here. I'll get Merlin."

"But—"

"Those are two of the Ten Commandments, Your Highness," he says. "Please, it's not safe for you."

He sets Elizabeth on her feet and heads towards the source of the commotion. Now that she has her bearing Elizabeth can see much better. There _was_ a crater formed in the forest, and inside stand two of the most terrifying creatures she has ever seen.

Both are huge, taller than even Mael had been, with grotesque bulging muscles and spikes like daggers dotting their skin. Their faces are unlike a human's, despite the eyes, nose and mouth; they are almost a twisted copy, making them look like monsters. They must be demons, she is sure of it, and as she stares at them in alarm something inside of her awakens. It is as if her own soul is reacting to their presence, her stomach sour at the sight of them, her instincts telling her to fight and kill and destroy the demons. Never before has she had such a visceral reaction to anything—why them, why now?

It makes no difference, however, and Elizabeth crouches down to hide among the tall grass, folding her wings back and down. She can hear them speaking, straining to make out their words.

"— _you_ to be here."

"Captain left me to watch the goddess. I assume that's why you are here?"

Elizabeth gasps and covers her mouth. That can't be true, can it?"

"Where is she? I'm to take her to the king. His Majesty wants her."

Now true terror rolls through her, and Elizabeth moves to crawl away, determined to hide in the forest. Then she freezes—she can't leave without Merlin! Desperately she looks back, scanning the area for the girl. If she can just find her then they can hide together…

To her horror, she finds one has Merlin by the arm, the girl shaking in fear, tears falling from her eyes. "This is the little bitch that stole the king's gift," one says. He shakes her for good measure, and Elizabeth sobs into her hand when Merlin goes limp. "His Majesty will reward us for bringing her back with the goddess."

"Let the girl go," Gowther says menacingly.

"Or what?" says the other. "You're nothing but a crippled old magician. You're not even a real demon. Now tell us where the goddess is or you're next!"

A hand catches her arm and she spins around. Gloxinia stands there, watching the scene, and his fingers dig sharply into her arm. "Demons in my forest," he growls dangerously. "I knew this would happen."

"Your Majesty, please! I need to help Merlin!" Elizabeth whispers.

"You're not going anywhere," he says firmly. "Your safety is more important than anything else."

He steps around her as his wings expand, and the king takes to the air. The demons shout at his approach, and in a flash Gloxinia's spirit spear transforms into a giant insect, its huge stinger pointed straight at the demons. "Leave this forest," he commands. "You are on sacred ground, and you will forfeit your lives if you take one more step."

"We're taking this one and the goddess," one of the demons says. "Hand her over or we'll burn this forest to the ground."

Gloxinia lets loose a roar, throwing his hand out to the side. "Basquias!" he cries. "Form Nine: Death Thorn!"

Basquias transforms again, this time into dozens of sharp vines that shoot towards the demons. The one holding Merlin swipes his arm, tearing through them with his claws, as the other is wrapped tightly. As he struggles he falls to the ground, shouting in rage and pain as the vines pierce his thick, rubbery skin.

" _Divine Arrow_!" Gowther shouts. His arms are raised and a glowing bow and arrow appear, which he draws back and releases. His expression has hardened from the wise teacher to something akin to a warrior, sending Elizabeth's blood cold with fear. His demon mark appears on his forehead and bleeds over his eye as the arrow pierces one of the demons, setting off another roar.

Then to her shock Gowther leaps out of his chair, magic flashing from his hands as he avoids the twisting vines, and turns his body towards Merlin. He reaches out to grab her, and for a moment it looks as though he will reach her, one hand preparing a blast of power to force the demon to open his grip.

But the demon breaks free just at that moment, and with a swipe of his hand he sends Gowther to the ground with a smack. He shouts a command she cannot understand and lets go a pulse of dark magic, one she recognizes from Meliodas' fight with the queen. Elizabeth leaps to her feet, determined to give herself over to stop them from killing Gowther.

Gloxinia catches sight of her and shouts, but they are both too late. With the energy the demon cuts the vines, and both take to the air, sweeping up Gowther with them. Gloxinia shouts and tries to follow, but Elizabeth watches as terrified tears slide down her cheeks. She is left alone in the wreckage of the forest as Gowther and Merlin blink out of sight.

The silence that remains surrounds her, closing her in more than her prison in the palace ever had; the emptiness of being alone claws at her sharper than the endless days waiting for her mother. Elizabeth blinks as she looks around, not knowing what to do. She cares nothing for the blood that drips from her wounds or the tears in her dress, the streaks of dirt on her skin, her body that aches from being thrown through the air. They are gone, and she is alone, and she falls to her knees, sobbing into her hands and praying for Meliodas to return to her.

* * *

 **A/N:** So it seems that this story has taken on a bi-weekly publishing schedule, which I hope you don't mind. School has started again and so have my responsibilities. The story will be drawing to a close soon enough, and I hope that you enjoy.

Much thanks, as always, to my dear friend Galfridus. I owe everything about this story to you.

 **And an announcement!** For my fellow writers, I have been asked to help moderate an NnT Fan Zine! The zine is looking for writers and artists and the application will open next week. For all the information, please check out our Twitter or Tumblr NNTzine. I hope that you'll consider being a part of this wonderful project!


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Doubled Pawns

**Chapter Seventeen: Doubled Pawns**

 _It is very frequent that, after the trades made during a game,_ _ **the pawn structure**_ _changes and_ _ **doubled pawns**_ _appear on the board. As a result, both pawn and pieces mobility is affected. There can be isolated doubled pawns, when none can be protected, and doubled pawns defended by another._

 _Whichever the case, they can be a weakness in positioning and become a possible target. It is therefore equally important to know how to attack such weaknesses, if playing against them, and how to use the doubled pawns as a weapon._

 _Doubled pawns can become a target in the_ _ **endgame**_ _. With no pieces left to support them, they can easily be attacked and captured in the last phase of the game._

— _WGM Raluca Sgircea and IM Renier Castellanos_

* * *

Meliodas hears her screaming moments after entering the forest. He nearly freezes in his fear, his heart seizing.

With a roar he flies forward, breaking trees and tearing dirt from the ground in his careless terror. His own sore muscles and broken ribs are nothing compared to the beating of his heart, nearly bursting from his chest as he tries to find her.

It took too long to fight the Commandments, too damn long to overcome Fraudrin and avoid Derieri, too long to send his _Hellblaze_ at Melascula. Then he had to deal with his brother, face Estarossa and his fury, keep ahead of the maneuvers _he_ had taught the ungrateful little shit. All the while Chandler stood watching, doing _nothing_ , the betrayal from him even worse than that of the others. It took too long to leave the demon realm with Monspeet on his heels, fighting as he flew. It took _too fucking long_ and now he is hurt and Elizabeth is screaming—

 _Calm, calm, think,_ he chastises himself. But all training, all reason is gone because _Elizabeth is screaming_.

He sees moments later why. There is now a crater in the earth which has torn apart a section of the forest; the ground is singed with what must have been Purgatory fire. Only the demons could control such things, and Meliodas has a solitary burning thought— _they will pay for hurting her_ —the faces of Zeno and Aranak steady in his mind as he drops to the ground with a painful grunt.

"Elizabeth!" he calls out, his voice torn and rasping. "Elizabeth!"

"Let me go! We have to go!"

Her voice again, shouting and desperate, alerts him to her exact location. In the blink of an eye he appears next to her, being restrained by a fairy, and with one sweep of his arm the creature is knocked yards away as he yanks her against him. " _Stay back_ ," Meliodas says, feeling the power inside of him thrashing to get out as his eyes land on Gloxinia.

" _You_ ," the Fairy King seethes, "you tricked me, you sent those _things_ —"

"I said stay back!" Meliodas roars. His eyes dart between the fairies who stand with weapons drawn and pointed at them. His lungs struggle to take in deep enough breaths through his turmoil and pain. "I will kill every one of you."

"Come to finish it then?" Gloxinia says. "I knew it was a mistake to let you in here, to let that little girl and that _thing_ in here." Meliodas grits his teeth as he glares at the fairy, who looks nearly murderous as he stares back. "You sent your dogs to destroy my forest, and to take the princess! After you gave your word—"

"I did no such thing!" hollers the demon. "I was attacked myself. I came as soon as I could get away."

"Meliodas?" Elizabeth's soft voice next to his ear catches his attention, and for the first time he looks at her. The goddess' eyes are overflowing with crystal tears, red-rimmed, her cheeks flushed and her lips trembling. She looks a mess: matted hair, a cut on her temple, dirt and blood in streaks on her arms and neck. His eyes travel downwards in furor to take in the bruised knees and the rips in her dress.

Her palm presses to his cheek, bringing his face back up to hers. "You're here," Elizabeth breathes through her tears. "You're here." Then the goddess gives herself over to sobs as she holds him tightly and buries her face against his shoulder.

Meliodas is once again stunned. He is caught between demanding answers and wanting to soothe her pain, unsure of how to do either. He looks at Gloxinia, who is watching them suspiciously; at least the fairy has curtailed his own fury, for now. The demon reaches around to pat her on the back, the only thing he can think to do. But it seems right enough, because Elizabeth nuzzles against him as her cries soften, her hands gripping his shirt tightly as if to never let go, his neck now wet from her misery.

"What happened?" he asks in a low tone, determined to keep a control on his emotions. "Who did this?"

"Demons," Gloxinia answers, and Meliodas swallows. "Two of the Ten Commandments."

Meliodas closes his eyes briefly. "I know who they are," he mutters. "They were sent by the king to retrieve Elizabeth."

She gives a small gasp, and his arm instinctively curls around her. "I tried to follow but was delayed. They had not returned when I managed to escape."

"Two demons entered my forest!" shouts Gloxinia, his ire finally erupting. "It's _your_ fault! There has not been _anyone_ here in four hundred years and yet _now_ I give you aid and you bring destruction to my doorstep!"

"I didn't send them!" Meliodas insists. His free hand balls into a fist, and he thinks of how he would _love_ to show this king exactly what it means to doubt his word. But Elizabeth shifts, and he knows he has them both to think of now, so instead he says firmly, "I'm taking Elizabeth with me."

Shouts follow him as he turns with the goddess in his arms, calling, "Stop! You can't!" but he cannot be swayed, until once more she says his name.

Meliodas pauses as she stands upright, still leaning into his hold. "You know who they were?" she whispers.

Her eyes search his face, and he feels ashamed. "Yes," he bites out.

"Will you take me there?" she asks.

The demon frowns. "No," he says. "We're lucky they didn't get you this time, or worse. I'm taking you someplace that—"

"Meliodas!" Her voice is tight, and she grips his shoulders so fiercely he looks at her in surprise. "Please! They took Merlin!"

His stomach falls as he watches a fresh wave of tears fill her eyes. "They took her, and I couldn't stop them. They knew who she was! Meliodas, _please_ …" Elizabeth presses her forehead against his shoulder as she moans, "Please, we have to save her."

Meliodas swallows thickly, not sure of what to do. Allowing the king to get his hands on Merlin is bad news for them, and for the war—her powers are still mostly untapped, the possibilities endless. But they will know now that he was hiding her, that he has done more than just leave a battle. This is treason, pure and simple, and if he returns to the demon realm he will be executed on the spot.

"Where is Gowther?" he asks suddenly.

Elizabeth sniffles as she tries to steady her breathing. "They took him too," she whispers. "He thought he could stop them, and he fought them."

" _Damn it_." He lets go of the goddess, nearly pushing her away in his aggravation, taking a few steps away as his mind begins to turn over this bit of bad news. With Gowther's powers they could have a chance. Instead the king has one more traitor to play with, another reason to entice Meliodas to show his face.

The demon takes a few more steps, needing distance from her so he can _think_. He crouches on the ground, his elbows perched on knees as he presses his folded hands against his eyes. This entire day had been a complete disaster; not only did he fail in his task to become king and save Elizabeth and the vampire, but now he has given his father the excuse he needs to send every demon in the kingdom after them. One scenario after another plays out in his mind's eye, but all lead to one ending: death.

"There's nothing to be done," Meliodas finally says quietly. "We can't help them."

No answer comes, so he looks over his shoulder. Elizabeth is staring at him with a mixture of fury and horror, but Gloxinia steps forward. The king dismisses the others, leaving the three monarchs alone. But all Meliodas can do is accept the accusatory look on the goddess' face, wishing she would soften towards him once more.

"I agree," Gloxinia says once they are alone, his voice calmer now. "Any of us going to the demon realm would be suicide. All we can do now is prepare for the battle that is sure to come."

The fairy exchanges a glance with Meliodas, who gives a small nod. With a wince he stands and turns around. "I'll take the goddess and go," he says again, this time with a measured tone. "You'll be able to shore up your defenses once more. Besides, the demon king will be too busy hunting us to bother you."

"No!" With difficulty Meliodas brings his gaze to the princess as she shakes her head. She looks as though she may break at any moment, her muscles taut, her entire body trembling. "No, I don't accept that!"

Gloxinia places a hand on her arm and pleads, "Your Highness—"

"No!" Elizabeth yanks away from him as her panic overcomes her, her words coming out in a stuttering rush. "I'm not afraid of them, I'm not! I need to save her. I promised her, I promised, I promised to keep her safe and if neither of you will help me I'll go myself! I swear I'll—"

"Don't be stupid," Meliodas barks at her. "You cannot fight. You don't know where to find them."

Elizabeth blinks. The change in her is instant: gone is the nearly hysterical girl; she looks at him with eyes that are no longer sorrowful, but now are ablaze with defiance. "Then I will go to the king," she hisses back, making the hairs on his neck stand on end. "I am the daughter of the Supreme Deity. He will give me an audience."

Of that Meliodas has no doubt, but the thought of her in that hall sets his teeth on edge. "And then what, princess?" he shouts, pointing an accusing finger and striding forward. "You have nothing. You've been cast out, just as I have." Her eyes widen a bit at that, and he laughs. "That's right. Your little praying stunt has cost me everything. I should have left you there in the Celestial Realm, I should have _left you_ in Belialuin—"

Her hand cracks across his face, her movement so quick that he fails to see it coming through his own growing rage. Meliodas turns to swing, but she steps away, and he pulls himself back in enough time to keep from hurting her. The two glare at one another, the space between them filled with menace that seems to drip through the air itself. His cheek stings, which arouses his senses, but also reminds him of exactly who he is dealing with: namely, a goddess that surprises him at every turn.

Elizabeth looks beyond furious, her body nearly vibrating with it as she opens her mouth to speak. But all that comes out is a squeak, and she covers her face with her hands, turning on her heel and running into the forest. Meliodas growls and starts after her, but the king steps in front of him.

"Let her go," Gloxinia says. "Neither of you are in a state to talk. The forest will keep her safe, and keep her from leaving."

"You said you'd keep her safe before," Meliodas snarls.

"And I have," the fairy retorts. "She's alive, isn't she? She's here?"

He cannot argue that, as infuriating as it is. Gloxinia then turns his head sharply, tilting a bit as if listening, his lips pursing into a thin line. "Come with me," he says to Meliodas. "That is not a request. We have some things to discuss, and you need healing before you do anything. I'll have the goddess fetched and brought back."

The demon begins to argue, but Gloxinia cuts him off. "I have something to show you that you will find interesting, and potentially useful. Now come."

He does not wait for the demon's agreement, but simply takes off into the air. Meliodas glances over his shoulder in the direction Elizabeth had run, debating for a moment what to do. But as loathe as he is to admit it, Gloxinia is right. His dark wings expand once more, and moments later he too is gone, following the king.

* * *

Elizabeth runs for what could have been minutes, hours, days. Her tears and her anger bubble over into a furious sob that blind her path as she moves through the forest. Trying to steady herself, her hands reach out to grip the trees and branches as she hurries over the unfamiliar ground. Shear failure echos through her mind, cursing herself for her weakness and stupidity. When would she learn that she was useless, that when she tried to do what was right, it was always for naught? When would she learn that the world was cruel, and that Meliodas was no different than the stories she had been taught as a child?

That last thought makes her stumble, and Elizabeth sits heavily on the ground. She stares at her hands, the once pristine palms now covered in cuts and dirt, defeat flooding her veins. Finally, she has done what she has always wanted: stood in defiance of the demon clan, gone to battle to save innocent life. But all Elizabeth has been good for is to be knocked down like a branch in the wind, to stand helpless as beings more capable than her took command of the situation. Her weakness and folly have been her undoing, and Merlin's as well.

"Merlin," she whimpers, closing her eyes. The girl is hurt, certainly, and frightened. Was Gowther there to give her some comfort? Were they even alive? Another hated sob escapes her lips, and Elizabeth clamps her mouth and eyes shut in a furious scream. Tears did no good for anyone.

The sound of a twig snapping catches her attention, and she looks up with a gasp to see a fairy approaching. She is taller than the others, just like the king, and Elizabeth scrambles to her feet. "Your Highness?" the fairy asks gently. "Can I help you?"

"Who are you?" she demands harshly.

The fairy smiles. "My name is Gerheade. I am the sister of the king." Elizabeth frowns as the fairy draws closer. "Lord Gloxinia asked me to come and find you. It is not safe for you to be here in the forest on your own."

"I'm not afraid," Elizabeth insists, even as her voice betrays her with a tremble.

"No, that I don't doubt," Gerheade chuckles. "But the forest is afraid, and will lash out if threatened. Will you allow me to help you?"

She looks kind, and Elizabeth must admit that she is lost. So she nods, and the fairy moves to stand next to her on the grass. "You look injured," Gerheade murmurs. "Why can't you heal yourself?"

The question strikes Elizabeth is absurd before she remembers how Merlin had been healed. "I don't know how," she admits, her face blushing deeply.

The goddess waits for Gerheade's response: perhaps some friendly teasing the way Jelamet would joke, or the disapproval as Ludoshel had looked at her when she was too weak to keep praying, or the cold, cloying sentiment she would earn from her mother. But instead, Gerheade nods and pats her hand. "I have just the thing," she says.

The fairy produces a little vial and pops open the top. "Stick out your tongue," she says, and after a moment's hesitation Elizabeth obeys.

A drop falls on her tongue and slides down her throat. At once she is filled with what Elizabeth can only describe as _light_ , warmth bathing her from the inside out. Her muscles feel invigorated as the soreness melts away, her skin feels fresh and clean as her cuts and bruises heal. She looks in wonder at Gerheade, who explains, "This is an elixir made of the king's power. His spirit spear can heal any wound."

"Thank you," Elizabeth breathes. She may still look a mess, but she feels strong, and turning to Gerheade she asks, "I need to find my way out of the forest."

But Gerheade shakes her head. "Please, Your Highness. Come with me. Your demon is meeting with my brother now, and they are forming a plan. Let them help you."

Elizabeth wrings her hands tightly together. "They won't help me," she insists. "They only care about themselves."

The words sound false even as they leave her mouth, but Gerheade only sighs. "Your demon cares for you, Your Highness. You can trust me on that."

She gapes at the fairy, who returns a confused look. "He's not _my_ demon!" insists Elizabeth shrilly.

Gerheade chuckles. "My mistake then." Then she takes her hand and gives her a gentle squeeze. "Let me help you clean up, then we will return to the sacred tree. If you don't like what they have to say, then I will show you the way out myself, you have my word."

Elizabeth wants to believe the fairy, but her previous mistakes keep her from agreeing. Yet after a moment goes by, she knows she has little choice. Finally she nods, and together they head back into the forest.

* * *

Meliodas stares in admiration at the Sacred Tree, his head tilting back as he takes in the massive creature. Its thick trunk and heavy branches are laden with bright pink flowers that seem to go on without ending. What his father would not give to be standing here—and the thought makes him smirk to himself. The demons could assault the Fairy King's Forest if they so pleased, and burn it with Purgatory fire; but if the stories are true the forest itself would fight back, so their victory would come at a steep price. It is why the king has never attempted it, finding it not worth his effort.

However, standing here now Meliodas thinks of the magic that must dwell inside. It would be enough to feed the entire realm for centuries, and immediately his thoughts start forming a strategy to remove the king and take it for his own. But a clearing throat catches his attention, and startled he looks at Gloxinia, who is standing with arms folded and his expression firm. "Enough of that thinking," he admonishes.

"How do you know what I was thinking?" Meliodas demands.

Now it is Gloxinia's turn to smirk. "You're very different from other demons," he says as way of answer.

"So I've heard," the prince answers dryly. "Now explain what you know."

"Do you want to know _why_ you are so different?" Gloxinia asks, as if he hadn't heard. "Do you want to know why I allowed you in my forest, why I have brought you here to this sacred place?"

Meliodas narrows his eyes as he examines him closely. "Go on," he answers.

"Because I can read your heart," replies the king simply.

"That's impossible," Meliodas argues. "I don't—"

"Have a heart? Now _that_ is truly impossible," Gloxinia laughs. "It is much easier to read a fairy for certain, a human even moreso. Giants are not impossible but they are generally simple enough without it. But goddesses and demons are usually too filled with power to show their emotions strong enough." The king tilts his head a bit, considering this. "Has it been very long since you began feeling?"

A strange sort of warning goes off in his mind, almost causing him to feel sick. "I don't know what you mean," he says carefully.

Gloxinia nods. "I'm not surprised. You and the goddesses are all such warlike races. I'm sure the Commandments are not built to feel, but to obey. The king's own sons must be tenfold. But tell me… this must not be the first time you have felt emotion so clearly, has it?"

Hearing his own questions spoken aloud by Gloxinia is jarring. Meliodas had been wondering the same thing for weeks: why her, why now? He mulls his question, thinking back to his childhood, the wild demon that would kill without thought and terrorize the slaves. His penchant for violence was only matched by his abusive tongue, most of the time directed towards Chandler. The arrival of one brother and then another was not cause for celebration as much as resentment and spite. His tutoring and training fueled his inner drive until he became bent on surpassing everyone, including his father. Contrary to what Gloxinia thinks, Meliodas has experienced emotion.

Gloxinia is still examining him, and Meliodas feels trapped under his scrutiny. The probing questions driving him to lash out, until his father's voice enters his mind.

 _You have been empty for far too long, and I am tired of waiting_.

He still does not know what his father meant by this, but what Gloxinia has guessed is true enough. He had left the demon clan with the idea of exploring Britannia and finding something to pass the time once killing and eating and sex had grown tedious. Yet nothing filled the emptiness, nothing made him content for more than an hour or two. Nothing until Elizabeth.

Meliodas looks away from Gloxinia, whose expression has turned to curiosity. "It has been a long time," the fairy observes.

Clearing his throat, he snaps out, "I'm not here to discuss my feelings, whatever they may be. Where is this thing I must see?"

"I will show you in a minute, but first I must inform you of something." Gloxinia sits on a giant leaf that hangs from the tree, the vines wrapping around him like a blanket. Meliodas remains standing, however, his strength returning rapidly as his body heals. "I have received word from the Supreme Deity."

He grits his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek. "What does that bitch want now?" he demands.

Gloxinia's brows jump up. "Is that why you have Elizabeth with you?" he wonders aloud. The king taps his finger on his knee before proceeding, "The goddess clan wants their princess back, by any means necessary. Her Majesty is willing to forgive her daughter for her little rebellion, and is even willing to agree to let you live. In exchange Elizabeth would return to the Celestial Realm."

"No," Meliodas says darkly.

"Shouldn't that be up to the princess?" Gloxinia chuckles.

"I'm telling you, the answer is no," he threatens in answer.

The king nods. "I did not expect anything less. Although I will ask Her Highness as well, if you don't mind." Gloxinia sighs, thinking for a moment. "It is only a matter of time until the queen comes to fetch her. I have proposed an alliance with the goddesses and am waiting on an answer. More than likely she is waiting to see what happens with Elizabeth."

Meliodas folds his arms. "So you would hand me over to them as your bargaining chip, is that it?"

"Not at all," Gloxinia replies. "The strongest demon in Britannia is best on _my_ side, not hers."

Glowering, Meliodas steps forward threateningly. "And what makes you think I would be on your side? What makes you think you can command me, the son of the demon king? I am no subject of yours. I am not a pawn to be used in this war game."

"We are _all_ pawns, Your Highness," the king says pointedly. "There are only two players in this game, and that is _your_ father, and _her_ mother. The rest of us are pieces on the board. We can only maneuver ourselves to the best position possible."

The truth in his statement stings. Did he not argue something similar to this to Chandler the day he had met Elizabeth? They had spoken of his destiny, which Meliodas had rejected. He refused the throne because it was what they all wanted. His insides twist remembering how Chandler had sat with him in the tavern and shared a drink. Chandler, who had tried to kill him hours ago. "What do you want?" Meliodas asks.

"Your help," Gloxinia says. "I don't care about this war. I don't care for the demons or goddesses, and as sad as it is I don't care for the humans either. The giants and the vampires can fend for themselves. All I want is for _my_ clan and _my_ forest to be protected. So to do that, I want an alliance."

"An alliance with whom?"

"All the clans will unite against the demons," answers the king. "Without you on their side, the playing field is leveled, even tipped in our favor. You cannot take Elizabeth to the demons, you know that. And by the looks of you, you cannot return either. If not the demons, then we must ally with the goddesses. But with _you_ a part of it, they will not try their own takeover of Britannia. The clans will be equal partners."

Meliodas laughs humorlessly. "So your solution to keeping out of the game is to offer ourselves as pawns?"

Gloxinia shrugs. "You can choose to play for yourself or let others make your moves for you. This is the best way to keep yourself _and_ the goddess safe. With an alliance you can stay here, and with the goddesses and the giants they can protect her when the demons come."

The prince does not answer, thinking over this strategy, when Gloxinia stands and walks towards him. "And they _will_ come, Meliodas," he says quietly. "You know they will. I heard what happened to Belialuin. I know what that little girl did. Do you think he will let _you_ go so easily? And what of Elizabeth? Protecting her against the demons is hard enough; fighting off them _and_ the goddesses will be impossible."

They consider one another as Meliodas weighs this. Everything Gloxinia says is true, and he knows it; but the idea of allying himself once and for all against the demon clan makes his lungs tighten. There is still so much to consider, including Merlin, and Gowther, and Zeldris. They truly are playing a divine game between the gods, and one wrong decision would mean death for them all.

Gloxinia tilts his head again, then smiles. "We have guests," he smiles, gesturing behind him.

Meliodas turns to see a fairy approaching with Elizabeth. He feels his shoulders relax at the sight of her, healed and refreshed, so that he can almost forget the frightened and hysterical goddess who was covered in blood and screaming for help. He shivers at the memory, taking a few steps towards her; Elizabeth remains silent, but takes his offered arm, her fingers soothing and delicate against his skin.

Once more there is a connection that ignites between them, and an unspoken apology is offered and accepted. His role is this mess is forgiven even though it is not yet healed, and for Meliodas this is good enough. Their gazes connect with their silent communication, the blame and accusations placed aside with a renewed, if not cautious, agreement.

His pulse quickens as he thinks of what to say, something to show his gratitude. "I should have been here," he finally chooses, truly meaning it. Meliodas wants to tell her more, but cannot figure out how.

Elizabeth's eyes fall, her lashes dark against her cheeks. "I don't want to be weak anymore," she whispers to him.

Meliodas feels content with the mutual confession. The churning indecision from earlier is now gone, feeling sure with Elizabeth there, whole and unhurt. He turns to Gloxinia and says, "I will follow your proposal, under two conditions."

Gloxinia nods. "Go on."

"First, before I agree to this, I want to see what it is I came here to see."

"Yes, of course. And the second?"

He glances at Elizabeth, who is watching him with a frown. "We will go to the demon realm and rescue Merlin and Gowther." She gasps as Meliodas darts his eyes to Gloxinia. "And you will help us."

The goddess' fingers squeeze into his arm, making his stomach leap. "The demon realm is nothing but death," the fairy snaps. "You're asking me to commit suicide."

"Don't be ridiculous," Meliodas responds. "I know it better than anyone. I know exactly where they'll be taken, and how to get in and out unseen. We will just need some of your magic to make it work."

Gloxinia looks more than unconvinced, but Meliodas is pleased he does not outright refuse. "Follow me," he says brusquely, turning to disappear into the mass of pink flowers. The demon follows, holding Elizabeth's hand tightly. Her fingers weaved through his gives him a renewed strength, the brush of her thumb against his sending a shiver along his nerves.

They step into a clearing that stretches to the base of the tree. Standing there is Gowther: not the Commandment, but his doll, who had revealed Elizabeth's location to the others.

Immediately flames of anger lick through him, pulling from the goddess' touch. The second they disconnect it turns into a boiling rage, his other hand immediately reading _Hellblaze_ as the demon mark slithers down his skin. "You," Meliodas seethes. "You told them where we were! Gowther is in their hands because of _you_!"

"It was certainly unexpected," the doll replies pleasantly, his unaffected demeanor still uncanny after all this time. "I had not heard from my father in some time, so I continued obeying the orders of those above me. It was not until after the unfortunate circumstances that my father sent me a message: go to the Fairy King's Forest and assist Princess Elizabeth with whatever she commands."

"If you hadn't—"

Elizabeth grabs his arm, stepping between them and cutting him off. "You know where Gowther is?" she exclaims. "Is he with Merlin? Can you take me there?"

The doll bows. "Of course, Your Highness, this way."

"You're not going anywhere with him!" Meliodas balks.

She turns back to him, and the softness he has come to crave is once more present in her eyes, now ringed with a determination he had not seen before. "You will come too, won't you?" she asks, and when the question is spoken Meliodas knows he will. He will follow her anywhere.

* * *

 **A/N:** Surprise! Early update! Much thanks to my beta Galfridus, who has quite literally kept me sane.


	19. Chapter Eighteen: En Passant

**Chapter Eighteen: _En Passant_**

 _she was  
searching  
for everything  
and nothing_

 _she didn't know who  
he was; who he would be  
she was looking for  
someone nonexistent_

 _but when her eyes  
met his  
her breathing hitched;  
she knew those were  
the eyes  
she wanted to  
stare into  
forever _

— _hb_

* * *

Elizabeth glances over at the demon who lays nearby. It is well past nightfall, and she should be sleeping. That's why they delayed their rescue attempt until sunrise, after all: Meliodas needs to rest and fully heal from the fighting. Her powers and his only served to heal his physical wounds, but after the fight with the queen, followed by taking on the Ten Commandments, his magic is depleted.

Yet she cannot sleep, not after all that has happened. Her eyes trace over his outline in the dark. Gloxinia had left them in a small shelter that had been built on a branch of the Sacred Tree, barely more than two hammocks; dozens more dot the boughs, each one a little tent where the fairies can retire. Their bed—and she was so grateful there is more than enough room for the two of them without even being close to having to touch—is made of soft moss and flowers that rest on the wide bough of the tree, the scent cool and refreshing. But despite the loveliness of the Tree and the soft beds provided by the Fairy King, Elizabeth is wide awake.

Mostly she thinks about Merlin, her lip quivering every time she remembers her scream. She prays that the girl is not hurt, not sure if it will work as it had on Meliodas. Elizabeth wishes she knew more about her power, realizing now how little instruction she had received on the topic in her upbringing. They told her what to do, and she did it. She may as well have been a puppet, not a princess.

She sighs and looks at Meliodas again, just making out his form in the darkness, the moonlight partially hidden through the canopy. They are going to search a demon garrison in Britannia first, what he had described as a holding cell for prisoners to be taken to either Purgatory or to stand before the king. If they were not there, then he would open the portal for them to go into demon territory and find them. He and Gloxinia had talked for hours, aided by Gowther's analysis, until their plan was set. She had listened with a bit of awe, feeling slightly foolish. Strategy is a skill Elizabeth also now realizes she painfully lacks.

Yet their roles are decided, and if all goes well they will be back in the relative safety of the Fairy King's Forest with Merlin and Gowther, ready to sign a treaty and form a new alliance. It should be simple, a rescue mission before anyone even realizes they are there—that is the plan, anyway. All she needs now is some _sleep_.

"Why are you staring at me?" Meliodas mutters from under his blanket.

His voice startles her badly, the goddess yelping and sitting up like a shot. "Your Highness!" she cries. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"Yes," he mutters. "You move around too much. Do all goddesses sleep as restlessly as you, or is this purely for my benefit?"

Elizabeth blushes and ducks her head, despite the fact that his back is still turned towards her. "I'm sorry," she says again. "I'll try—"

"Go to sleep," he says sharply, the two falling into silence once more.

Carefully Elizabeth settles back, slowly and cautiously arranging herself and her blanket. Her wings ruffle a bit as she shifts and her eyes close, still seeing the burning shapes of the stars behind her eyelids.

The goddess sighs, her mind wandering. Once more her thoughts turn to Merlin. What she must have experienced in Belialuin had been nothing short of hideous. Now she is in the hands of the demons, Elizabeth could only imagine what they could be doing to her. Will they hurt her? Torture her? She is valuable to the king, so at least she is relatively safe from being killed…

But still, the girl must be terrified. Are there monsters there? Elizabeth had heard descriptions of the red and gray demons with pointed teeth, the blue ones with their talons, the legions of soldiers who thirsted for blood. She is not sure what is truth or fiction, but if Belialuin had been any indication, the demons are not above causing any kind of harm.

Nor the goddesses, either. Elizabeth's thoughts turn to her mother, the queen. Gloxinia had told them the goddesses were seeking her, and she shivers to think of meeting her again after all that has happened. She supposes it is inevitable, one way or another. But this time she will have allies, and Meliodas will protect her…

She turns her head again to gaze at him, and thinks, _I wish I could protect you too_.

"What did you say?" he asks sleepily.

Elizabeth blinks in surprise. "N-nothing!"

"What is it?" grumbles Meliodas. "Can't you sleep?"

"No," she admits softly. "I keep thinking about Merlin, and what we must do tomorrow."

He does not answer at first, and Elizabeth assumes he has fallen asleep again. So when he speaks, she is surprised. "Tell me what is wrong."

Unsure how to respond, she decides on a reserved truth. "I don't know anything about the demon realm. I wish I knew what to expect." Then Elizabeth rolls over to her side, carefully tucking her wings behind her. "Can you tell me about it?"

Meliodas clears his throat. "There is nothing to tell," he answers. "It is the stronghold of the Demon King, where his armies are created and trained. There is nothing there but serving him."

Elizabeth thinks about this for a minute, picturing her own home—well, what _was_ her home. "No music?" she whispers. "No parties, or dancing? No times with family?"

A loud snort comes from the demon. "Is that what you had then? Chocolates and games and dancing?"

She feels her cheeks go warm. "Not exactly," she admits. "I had much to learn to be the next queen. But there were happy times. Sometimes my mother—"

Elizabeth cuts off abruptly, her throat burning. She expects him to say something at the best patronizing, at the worst cruel; instead, he breaks the silence saying, "It's not like that in the demon realm. But you have nothing to be afraid of since I will be with you."

Sighing, she shifts again, settling onto her pillow. "I know," she murmurs. "I know you would never hurt me."

A smile ghosts her lips as she thinks of this truth: there are so many things she once believed that now she knows are false. But _this_ must be real, the protection she feels from Meliodas. But then he surprises her again by asking, "Why?"

Elizabeth frowns. "You've saved me. Not just from the fighting—you did do that, in Belialuin, and from the queen—but from my life. My existence was lies, and I would have never known it." Without considering the consequences, she reaches out in the dark, her fingertips finding his. "I want to return the favor some day, if I can."

Meliodas pulls away, moving to sit up. "And how do you plan to do that?" he challenges, although his tone is missing its usual biting edge.

"By being a good wife and queen," she replies. His back stiffens, and Elizabeth can just make out the slight turn of his head in the darkness. "If you still want me, after all this," she adds.

"Elizabeth," Meliodas hisses sharply, but she hears him catch his breath. Then he continues, his voice more even, "You can't be queen of the demon realm."

A heaviness fills her stomach then, which is ridiculous. Elizabeth never really wanted this—never really wanted to leave her home, to marry the prince, to become monarch of the enemy clan. But hearing him say that, Elizabeth feels ashamed. "I understand," she whispers.

She turns to press her face into the pillow and hide, but Meliodas says, "I don't think you do. I'm not going to be the king."

"What?" She turns and sits up, staring at his silhouette. "What are you talking about? Of course you'll be king, you're the—"

"Oldest son and strongest demon in Britannia, yes, I've heard it all before," he sighs. Meliodas draws his legs up, bending to rest his arms on bent knees. "I don't want it. I never have, I don't think. Maybe before, when I was younger. I used to think it was inevitable, that it would be mine no matter what I wanted." He draws in a breath as his hand goes to rake through his hair. "But now… I don't think the king will pass the throne that easily. He wants me for something else."

"Something else?"

"Something… but I don't know what." The demon looks over his shoulder then, their eyes meeting as his flash in the moonlight. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Elizabeth knows he is being sarcastic, but she smiles anyway. "You aren't at all. I don't know how a goddess could be the demon queen anyway."

The prince gives a derisive laugh. "That is certain. I doubt you would have survived even to produce the first child."

She blushes again at the idea of carrying Meliodas' child. "Is that what you want?" she asks gently. "Children?"

"I want…" Meliodas seems almost confused. "I want to know what is going on, why this war is going on, why we were promised in marriage. None of it makes sense. I feel like I have the pieces, but cannot see the picture they make yet."

"You said the king wanted something from you?" Elizabeth presses her lips together as she thinks. "So he has been using you, just like my mother was using me."

"I suppose you could say that," he huffs in reply.

"Can I ask you something?"

Meliodas gives another laugh, even less condescending this time. "Yes, go ahead, goddess."

Elizabeth speaks haltingly, trying to find the right words. "When we first met… at the end, when Ludoshel came and he… he tried to attack you. Something happened, I remember he sent his power and then…" She waves her hand in the air trying to describe what had happened. "It was like it didn't touch you at all. And Ludoshel was hurt. How did you do that?"

She hears him clear his throat. "You're asking me to share the secret of my ability."

"I suppose so," she admits. "Is it—could you teach it to me?"

"Teach you!" Immediately Elizabeth realizes her mistake and begins to stammer out an apology, but Meliodas cuts her off. "That technique was taught to me by my tutor, and took many years to master. It's not something I can simply _show_ you, like writing your name or riding a horse. And it takes a certain kind of power to control."

"I understand," she sighs. "I don't have that kind of power anyway."

"What makes you say that?" he asks sharply.

Elizabeth shrugs. "I was never taught to fight. Only to help." Her shoulders slump a bit as she looks up at the sky. "If I would have a power like yours, I would take all of the pain onto myself."

There is a pause, and then the demon asks, "What do you mean?"

"Your power, you… sent it back to him, didn't you? The attack?" Meliodas hesitates before nodding. "I wouldn't do that. I don't know if I could hurt someone like that. So I would take it, and hold it inside."

Meliodas snickers. "That's not how it works. You can't just absorb power. It has to go _somewhere_."

"Then I'd hold it!" she says defiantly. "And when I met someone who was trying to hurt others, or being cruel, then I'd send it back in revenge."

The talk and his teasing has sent her pulse thumping, and the goddess finds herself annoyed at him. There is a long pause; then Meliodas says, "We should get some sleep."

Elizabeth nods, laying back down, watching him do the same next to her. He lays on his back this time, she on her side, and her eyes settle on his chest, rising and falling. It's soothing being so close to him, although she cannot explain why; there is a twinge inside of her, thinking how things could have been so different.

"Elizabeth," he murmurs, and she glances up towards his face. "I would have—I would have had you. If I was still going to be king."

A shiver goes through her, her eyes misting a bit as she realizes what he means. Then she slides closer, leaning over him, and their lips press together in a kiss.

A moment later Elizabeth realizes just what she has done. With a gasp she pulls back in surprise, trying to think of a reason why she would do such a thing, be so _forward_ —but Meliodas surges towards her, his arms going around her and rolling over so she is pinned underneath him.

It is clear immediately this is not the sweet, almost hesitant kiss from before. His strong body covers her, and Elizabeth can feel the solid muscle of his form: the bulge of his arms encircling her, the hard chest pressed on her soft one, his firm thighs braced against hers. She shudders at the sheer _strength_ she can feel; even if he were not a demon, not powerful beyond any other, not the son of the king of demons, Meliodas would be a warrior.

He pushes down so Elizabeth is nearly trapped. His lips slant over hers, tugging possessively, and Elizabeth does not _melt_ into the sensation—instead, she pitches herself headfirst towards it.

She opens her mouth and immediately his tongue pushes inside to taste her. Her lashes flutter for a moment as she lets him use her mouth as he wishes, responding only with soft movements of her lips. Meliodas shifts against her, once more reminding her of the power that lies inside of him. He could do whatever he wants, she thinks; he could hurt her, kill her, toss her away, but instead he is kissing her in a bed of moss and flowers.

 _Put your arms around me._ Did he say that? Did she? Instantly she obeys, finding her arms free, wrapping around his shoulders. Meliodas gifts a soft groan, the contrast of the sound with the rough way he kisses her now sending a shiver down her spine.

Elizabeth breathes in deeply as his lips wraps around her bottom one. His scent reminds her of spiced wine, and leather, and the way the air tastes before a storm. Her hands slides into his hair, which is somewhat coarse, but thick in her fingers, and unconsciously she clenches them. Meliodas bites her bottom lip as she tugs, making her gasp—then once more his mouth is on hers, kissing her deeply.

She feels the need to move, wanting _something_ , but what she cannot tell. Because this _is_ where she wants to be, in his arms: the lovely way he kisses her possessively, the way his fingers tease along her wings and shoulder blades, the way she is dizzy from being surrounded by him. She can feel the heat of his body through their clothes: he in loose pants and a sleeveless shirt, she in a tunic and leggings, gifts from the fairies who are surprisingly skilled in textiles. At once she is glad for the barrier between them, knowing that he would completely engulf her if she allowed him; yet she yearns for it as well, for the war and her mother and the deadly task ahead of them to be gone, all that remaining _Meliodas_.

He groans into her mouth, sending a shockwave through her body, and she responds in kind with a breathy sort of moan. Working solely on instinct, Elizabeth arches her body, pressing her chest against his, and tilting her hips up as the throbbing inside her increases. On cue he presses back, wedging himself between her legs as she pants into his mouth. At this angle she is even more at his mercy, and she wants him—gods, she _wants_ , more than she has ever wanted anything in her entire life.

Meliodas breaks the kiss abruptly, leaving her gasping and blinking up at him. Her lips are throbbing and her face is flushed, but in the moonlight his face is cast in shadow, hiding his expression. Her hands are still in his hair, gripping the strands tightly; slowly she loosens her hold and slides her palms down the sides of his neck, his skin heated and damp from perspiration.

A long moment ticks by before he speaks. "Go the fuck to sleep."

His voice is like gravel, hard and breathless. Instantly he is gone, the cool night air hitting her where his body once covered hers. Elizabeth gives a squeak of surprise, her hands flying to her cheeks. When she finally dares a glance towards the demon, he is turned away from her, and does not speak again.

* * *

In the northwest corner of Britannia the land turns brutal. The earth turns from rich soil covered in clover to rock, the rolling hills giving way to fog and swamp. Few go near the place, as it is no good for farming or raising cattle, and the lack of humans allows the wild to grow freely. Wolves own the land, their prey anything that moves. Rumors swirl about the place as well, of creatures that could only exist in stories living in the darker places of the bogs.

It is here, on an island in a lake that is filled with green-black water, the demons have built a prison. Most other clans cannot survive the harsh air of the demon realm, and none other than the king himself could hope to come out of Purgatory alive. So they use this place as an outpost and interrogation center, the stories keeping the humans away, and the thick mist that covers the land shielding it from the watchful eyes of the goddesses' floating castles.

Meliodas finishes describing the place as the three prepare to go. Elizabeth's stomach is filled with fluttering nerves, particularly after being unable to take any food or drink when they rose with the sun. She listens carefully to the final instructions, and Meliodas speaks to her directly, saying, "You are not to leave my side, not once. Not for anything, or anyone. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she assures him.

"I don't like that the princess is going," Gloxinia says evenly. "We could handle this ourselves."

"You don't like Elizabeth out of your reach," Meliodas snaps. "Keeping her in the forest means you can still use her as your bargaining chip, which I won't allow. You have not proven yourself trustworthy enough, not yet. Elizabeth does not leave my sight."

The king presses his lips together, clearly displeased to be taking orders from Meliodas. But the demon ignores him to turn to Elizabeth. "Are you ready?"

She blinks at him rapidly, trying to keep up with his changing demeanor. Yet before she can answer, there is a call from above for the king. "Your Majesty! Your Majesty! The goddesses are here!"

"What the _fuck_ ," Meliodas growls, whirling on the king. "You called them here? You son of a—"

"Of course not!" Gloxinia shouts. "Do you take me for a fool?" Then he pauses, his eyes growing wider. "Do you feel that?" he murmurs.

Meliodas draws up, his hand immediately calling forth his sword. Next to him, Elizabeth is trembling, her hand on her mouth, eyes wide in terror. She looks upwards through the canopy, her gaze darting back and forth, searching. There is the sound of beating wings—her clan's army, no doubt—but more than anything else there is the overwhelming presence of the queen.

Moments later they begin to land, and Meliodas steps protectively in front of her. Yet that could not hope to hide her from them all: dozens of goddesses surround them on every side. She spots Ludoshel among the ranks, his scowl making her mouth go dry; next to him, Sariel and Tarmiel regard her with their familiar guarded expressions.

She scans the crowd, looking for any clue as to what their plan is, or at the least a sympathetic face. Her heart sinks as they all stare back with hostile expressions; then, her eyes land on Jelamet. Elizabeth nearly calls her name, taking a step forward towards her old friend, but Meliodas stops her with a firm hand on her arm. Tears come to her eyes, knowing he is right to stop her from getting any closer, but the openly hateful look on Jelamet's face pierces her heart.

But there is no time to dwell on her former friend, because the queen arrives in a gust of wind. She appears even taller than Tarmiel or Ludoshel, clearly meaning to intimidate. Elizabeth grabs a hold of Meliodas' shirt to steady herself. Beneath the fabric she can feel him nearly vibrating, though he does not move even an inch as the Supreme Deity approaches their place beneath the Sacred Tree. Fairies watch from the branches above, soldiers waiting for a command from the king. If there is to be a fight, the number and power of the goddesses have them at a distinct advantage; however, Gloxinia looks particularly livid at the intrusion.

"What is this?" he cries, taking to the air. "You are trespassing in my Forest! I demand you leave this instant!"

"King Gloxinia," the queen greets him. Her voice is thick and rich, but it reminds Elizabeth more of quicksand than honey. "Please excuse my rudeness, but I felt that this was an urgent matter."

The queen slowly looks around, taking in the forest for herself. Elizabeth's face flushes, and she looks at the ground, as if she could ever hope to hide from her mother's gaze. "Your message was received. I felt the proposal was important enough to see to myself."

Gloxinia tilts his chin up, regarding the queen carefully. "That does not excuse you entering this place without invitation. How did you get past the Forest's defenses?"

"The same way my daughter did, I assume," she laughs.

The sound sends a chill through Elizabeth, who whimpers through clenched teeth.

"Your hostility is forgivable, although it is surprising," the queen continues. "After all, _you_ are the one who proposed an alliance between our clans. I am willing to negotiate, despite seeing for myself that you harbor a murderous demon and my traitor of a daughter."

Every nerve in her body recoils, growing tighter as her instincts turn sharp. A growing sense of powerlessness begins to blanket her senses, and no matter how deeply she inhales, Elizabeth feels as though she cannot get enough oxygen. To hear this voice again, to simply stand in the presence of her mother who has betrayed her so utterly makes Elizabeth want to rage and cower and fight all at once. Yet in the corners of her mind, darkness is brewing, threatening to overtake her. Something she cannot name begins to form, something terrible, something that fills her with horror.

Then Meliodas' hand, sure and strong, reaches back and takes her own. Relief floods her, and at once she exhales a breath she had not realized she was holding.

"What is it you want?" Gloxinia demands.

"To accept your offer," the queen replies. "The goddess clan will ally with the fairy clan against the demons. I have already spoken to King Drole of the giants and he has agreed to this as well."

Gloxinia glances downwards at Meliodas, who is standing rigidly, poised to strike. He still holds Elizabeth's hand, their fingers tightly entwined. She does not know why he has chosen now to give her strength and reassurance, but there is no room to wonder in the presence of the queen.

"That is well and good, Your Majesty," answers Gloxinia carefully. "But I am afraid you have mistaken my meaning. I do not wish to fight the demons. Only protect myself and my forest from war."

"And our protection you shall have," she assures him with a brilliant smile. "Just as soon as you hand over the demon and the princess."

"Forget it!" Meliodas shouts. "I don't care what alliance you make. You're not taking Elizabeth."

Slowly, the queen's gaze turns to them for the first time. Again that darkness begins to fill the goddess, her throat tightening as she withers under her mother's stare. How can they hope to defy such a being? All at once Elizabeth is nothing more than a child, staring at the queen in a mixture of fear and awe, helpless in her presence. Her cheek stings and her throat throbs, the fear so sudden and terrible that she does not even form tears.

She does not speak, thankfully. Instead, it is Ludoshel who moves, his sword flashing as he yells, "Do not dare address the queen! You disgusting filth, you murderer!"

Elizabeth gasps at the change in the archangel: once he had been the model of stoic confidence, but now his mouth curls into a grotesque snarl and his hair flies in knots around his face as he advances. Meliodas evades him easily, his hand never leaving hers, even as the other goddesses prepare to fight.

"No!" Gloxinia shouts. "I will not have fighting in my Forest!"

"Ludoshel," the queen says pointedly. "You are making a scene in front of our hosts."

Immediately the archangel pulls himself back, the rest of the goddesses that surround them remaining tensed but no longer pressing inwards. Ludoshel stands up rigidly, his shoulders and chin up, glaring down at the demon who shows no signs of intimidation.

"My apologies," is his stiff response. "I forgot myself in the presence of the one who murdered my own brother."

Elizabeth whimpers, her eyes darting back to Jelamet. The pain in her eyes is only matched by the seething hatred as she stares back at the princess. _I'm sorry_ , she pleads silently. _May your heart be at rest. May you find peace. May you forgive me._

"Quiet," Meliodas mutters to her.

He lets go of her hand, switching his sword into his left, and looks squarely at Ludoshel. "I did not kill Mael," he says. "I did not order his death. This is war. A senseless war with senseless death." He turns his head and looks at the deity. "A war that the queen of goddesses and king of demons are waging for their own gains. So tell me truthfully, who is the enemy?"

Elizabeth's attention shifts from the threat that surrounds them to the demon she has come to know the past weeks. All at once the fear of being in her mother's presence and the accusations of the goddesses dissipates, and she looks at Meliodas with new eyes. He seems almost unreal at that moment: strong and bold and unafraid, his short stature and simple clothing meaningless because he is, simply, a king. Her own desire to help and to lead kindles in her breast as the tension in her brow smoothes away.

"Liar!" one of the goddesses shouts.

The others pick up the accusation, calling out to them, and Elizabeth has had enough. "He speaks the truth!" she cries, and the unexpectedness of her voice brings silence. All eyes now on her, she nearly falters; but when Meliodas looks back at her with a tinge of surprise, she draws herself up and turns to the queen.

"He speaks the truth," she says again. "The goddess clan is no more guilty or innocent than the demons. This war must end, by any means possible." She swallows and briefly closes her eyes. "If that means that I must return to the Celestial Realm, then so be it."

A murmur goes up among the goddesses, and her mother's lips curl into a smile. But Meliodas grabs her roughly by the arm, turning her towards him. "No, Elizabeth, I won't let you do this," he hisses.

"However, I will not go until the captives held by the demons are back here safe," she continues. Her arms are trembling with adrenaline and the sheer weight of what she is doing, but Elizabeth remains steadfast despite the desperate pounding of her heart. "Retrieve Merlin and Gowther and the fairies being held, and then I will go with you."

The queen's brow arches slightly. "My daughter thinks that she is in a position to negotiate," she laughs, answered by a soft rumble of laughter from the others. Elizabeth blushes furiously but does not drop her gaze, her heart pounding until the queen says, "Come, Your Majesty, let us speak privately to set our terms."

She watches them move to speak with heads bowed together. Elizabeth wishes she could hear what they are saying, impossible as the goddesses begin talking amongst one another. Meliodas, meanwhile, gives her a shake, pulling her attention. "I can't protect you there. You know the queen will simply use you to continue the war."

"Not if I refuse," she whispers. "If I go, the alliance will move forward, and the goddesses can aid you in saving Merlin and Gowther."

"I don't care about them," he growls. "Your safety is—"

"Meliodas," she murmurs, and her hand on his cheek stills him. "Merlin and Gowther are innocent in this. I would give my freedom a hundred times before I saw them harmed."

He mutters a curse, dropping her arm as he looks away; then he gathers himself and nods. "Don't move," orders Meliodas, turning to walk over to where the monarchs are meeting.

Elizabeth holds her elbows, her nerves just beginning to settle. Glad to finally be doing _something_ , to be useful in some way, she risks a glance towards the goddesses. She recognizes many of the faces, but they all regard her with sharp suspicion. How can she ever begin to explain, begin to tell them all she has seen and learned? How can she hope to lead the goddess clan one day when they judge her with such mistrust?

The greatest hostility comes from Jelamet, who is glaring at her with undeniable animosity. The goddess she has known since childhood, the one she played with and laughed with and turned to for support, now stares with narrowed eyes and nostrils flared, her mouth set to a thin line. She is dressed in her armor, her weapon at her side, and a chill goes down Elizabeth's spine when her hand moves to the hilt.

"Jelamet," she whispers sadly, her hands reaching out before she realizes it. She takes a step forward, and the goddess' mouth turns into a snarl.

"Keep away from me," Jelamet hisses.

Elizabeth's lip trembles. "Please," she says softly. "I know you are in pain, but you must just—just listen to me—"

"I said stay _back_ ," the goddess snaps, pulling her weapon and rushing forward. Elizabeth yelps and jumps backwards, and a moment later Meliodas and Ludoshel are there between them.

"Keep your soldiers back," Meliodas says angrily. "Do you have no control over them?"

"The princess instigated this," Ludoshel retorts.

" _Your_ princess, that was just being threatened by _your_ soldier!" He turns to Gloxinia and shouts, "You want me to trust these creatures, who turn on their own based on lies?"

"That's exactly what I want," the fairy king snaps. He looks between Meliodas and the queen, who has remained silent, watching with a small smile. "The day will not wait. Elizabeth has agreed to return if we take care of the hostages, so stop these arguments. If we ever hope to work together we must put aside these differences."

The rest fall silent, until the queen finally speaks. "Well said, Your Majesty." She nods to Ludoshel and continues, "Get ready to depart. I want this settled today. I trust that my daughter will remain safe here under the protection of the Fairy King until she returns to me." Her eyes flick towards Elizabeth and Meliodas. "Let this be the first of many times the clans unite without disgrace or stigma, for the good of Britannia."

At once the goddesses begin to move, and Gloxinia calls for his own guards. Elizabeth watches as Jelamet falls into line, wondering if she will ever see her friend again.

Meliodas moves next to her. "I can trust you to stay here and not do anything foolish?" he asks quietly.

She takes a last glance at the goddesses before nodding, her eyes closing briefly. "Yes," she answers. "I will be here when you get back with the others."

The demon looks down, his hands on his hips. A moment passes between them, both wanting to say goodbye, both afraid that they must mean it. Finally Meliodas says, "When this is over, I will come for you. I don't care what the queen wants. You belong with me."

A warm piercing sensation fills her stomach, as surprising as it is welcome. Elizabeth swallows thickly and nods. "I trust you," she says in response.

The warmth spreads through her as he looks up; his eyes are the color of the grass in the forest, no longer the dark moss or the black pools of ink. Her lips part as she remembers his mouth gliding on hers, first innocent, then insistent; she wishes to be held again, to taste him again, to feel his undeniable strength pressed against her.

But she must content herself with the brush of his fingers on hers, and the glimpse of his green eyes, before they begin to fade into darkness as his demon mark begins to rise to the surface. He steps away, their eyes remaining connected. Elizabeth thinks of their first parting, at the gates to the Celestial Realm. She had been desperate to think of a reason to speak, but was eager to get home and process all she had seen. How different things had become now that she was so close to returning, her heart seizing tightly as the demon's wings expand before he takes off into the air, her hair and dress blowing in the draft that is left behind.

* * *

 **A/N:** Publishing schedule? What publishing schedule? XD

Sorry for the delay, I had to do some major rewrites. As always my deepest thanks to Galfridus for holding my hand and giving amazing insight, and thanks to my writing friends who assure me that publishing late is not a crime. :D

We are nearing the end of this fic, and I believe we have less than a handful of chapters left. I am so grateful to all of you who have been reading this story, and I thank you for your kind reviews, faves, and follows.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: The End of Illusion

**A/N:** After a long delay, here is an update. Besides the holidays gearing up, I also participated in NNT week on Tumblr, have been preparing items for the NNT Zine, as well as had a few birthday presents to produce. But now that that is over, I will be back to updating regularly. If you'd like to check out what I've been doing in the meantime, please visit me on Tumblr under my username, maybeishouldwait. There are lots more writing there, including gifts for others, prompts, and oneshots!

Thank you to everyone for your patience. I appreciate all of you and am still stunned and overwhelmed by all my readers.

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: The End of Illusion**

 _I stand amid the roar  
_ _Of a surf-tormented shore,  
_ _And I hold within my hand  
_ _Grains of the golden sand —  
_ _How few! yet how they creep  
_ _Through my fingers to the deep,  
_ _While I weep — while I weep!  
_ _O God! Can I not grasp  
_ _Them with a tighter clasp?  
_ _O God! can I not save  
_ _One from the pitiless wave?  
_ _Is all that we see or seem  
_ _But a dream within a dream?_

— _Edgar Allen Poe_

* * *

In the northwest corner of Britannia the land turns brutal. The earth turns from rich soil covered in clover to rock, the rolling hills giving way to swamp. Few go near the place, as it is no good for farming or raising cattle, and the lack of humans allows the wild to grow freely. Wolves own the land, their prey anything that moves. Rumors swirl about the place as well, of creatures that could only exist in stories living in the darker places of the bogs, frightening the humans away.

It is here, on an island in a lake that is filled with green-black water, the demons have built a prison. Most other clans cannot survive the harsh air of the demon realm, and none other than the king himself could hope to come out of Purgatory alive. So they use this place as an outpost and interrogation center, the stories keeping the humans away, and the thick mist that covers the land shielding it from the watchful eyes of the goddesses' floating castles.

It is here, in the very stronghold of the demon king, that his eldest son allies with the enemy and takes the prison by siege, the first battle won from many. The tide of war shifts as the strongest on one side moves to the other: the white had lost its strongest pawn, Mael, replacing it with another, Meliodas. The power of the goddess' gain is nothing to the loss of his power for the demons. The unanswered play will be the demons' undoing, the blow that turns fatal when left unchecked. It is here, a place where no soul dares to tread, that a battle begins that will mark the beginning of the end of the Holy War.

Meliodas is very bored of war.

That is what he thinks, anyway, as the familiar motions of battle take over. Swipe. Move. Pull the blade. Twist your wrist. Now dive. Push back. Swipe. Move.

The sounds are the same: iron clashing, wings flapping, the groans of the dying, the shouts of the living. Every rattle of armor and call for more troops, every thud and ping and scrape test his patience. The smell of blood and dirt is the same, sweat and flesh, fire and oxygen. He can feel the wind and the heat and the dirt against his skin, he can feel the grittiness in his teeth and ears and eyelashes, he can taste the stale air on his tongue, and the prince of demons thinks: _enough already_.

But he goes on, fighting his own clan, turning off the part of his brain that would protest the act and simply following Ludoshel's lead. The goddesses are doing an excellent job in the assault, he must admit; no one had ever thought the stronghold would be besieged so brazenly, so the demons were ill-prepared. A part of him is livid, and he thinks of how he would punish them for their sloppy response. But Meliodas is no longer their prince or general. He is a pawn of the other side now.

He sees his opportunity and takes it, weaving through the fight to fly into the fortress. Waves of attacks are easily dispatched with _Full Counter_ , a part of the demon wishing that someone would actually arrive who could be a true adversary. Once he reaches the gates it is a matter of minutes before he is past the guard, the red and gray demons there now slaughtered in his wake. A cruel satisfaction fills him at seeing his enemy defeated, while a burning sickness fills his mind with revulsion: _you are a demon, these are your subjects, your clan, and yet you slaughter them for the goddesses, your enemy!_

 _Not for them_ , he thinks. _For Elizabeth_.

That settles his rancor and he enters the fortress. He had been here a handful of times on one errand or another, but it is laid out as any of the other strongholds of the demons. Meliodas strides through the hallways confidently, smirking as the demons in his way bolt at the sight of him. He imagines what he must look like in this moment, his dark nature swirling along his skin at the demon mark on his forehead grows and expands with every movement. It feels achingly good to return to this state. The burning sensation on his skin makes the hairs on his neck rise in anticipation of more: more power, more destruction, more death.

Yet that desire is also tinged with apathy. Meliodas easily slices a blue demon in half and pauses to look down at the unblinking eyes and the gore under his feet. He wants this, because it is what he has always wanted. Following commands and taking life—it is all he knows, so the numbness wraps around him like a security blanket. The monotony used to be soothing, his fatigue with war accepted because the only alternative was death. But now Meliodas _does_ have something else, and the sudden disgust with how things were makes him tremble with shame.

There is no time for such deep thoughts, however. More demons move to the entrances as the goddesses begin the breach, and Meliodas has but one mission. Quickly he makes his way into the depths of the building, easily latching onto the presence of his fellow Commandment. As expected, Gowther is being held in one of the higher security rooms, and the demon easily moves through the hallways, dispatching of whatever or whoever dares to stand in his way.

Once he arrives at his destination, it is unnervingly empty of guards. His eyes dart from side to side, reading the room, looking for the trap. But there is nothing he can see, at least not yet, so with a heightened caution he walks down the hallway between cell blocks until he reaches the last.

Inside he finds Gowther in his chair, smiling pleasantly at him. "Greetings, Captain," he says pleasantly. "I take it this disturbance is your doing?"

"Where is Merlin?" he says in reply.

Gowther turns his head slightly and says, "It's all right, Merlin. It's just the Captain. You can come out."

Meliodas follows his gaze. His brows raise slightly as the girl appears, seemingly walking through a door. She hurries to the bars of the cell, grabbing them with small hands. "Meliodas! You're here! Where's Elizabeth?"

"Somewhere safe," he tells her. "It was good of you to hide."

Merlin nods and grins. "Sir Gowther taught me how to make a _Perfect Cube_. Do you know how to make one? It's pretty easy, and once inside I can cover the walls with another spell to—"

"You taught her such advanced magic?" he asks Gowther, unalarmed but surprised.

Gowther nods. "She is an advanced mage. I think that would have been obvious."

Meliodas shakes his head. For someone with an innate power such as hers, this advanced magic is beyond dangerous. But this will have to wait, so he orders them back as he withdraws his sword, blasting a hole through the magic seal on their cell with _Hellblaze_.

Merlin hops onto Gowther's lap, her arms holding him tightly by the neck as he speeds into the hallway behind Meliodas. But the group stops in their tracks at the two Commandments that stand at the exit.

They are the Brothers of Calamity, Aranak and Zeno. Their hulking forms stand in the doorway, the combined powers of the two filling the small space with their menacing presence. Meliodas gives an internal growl, cursing himself for not noticing the two in his search for Gowther. He had been so focused on finding them and slaughtering the demons that they had snuck up on them, unnoticed.

"Gowther…" Meliodas mutters.

"I know," he replies.

"Captain." The demon scowls as he is greeted by Aranak. "We have been commanded by the king to take you alive."

"That will not be happening," he says coldly.

The two brothers glance at one another in tandem. Little is known about the two outside of what rumors there are. They are twins who move together and seldom seen apart; even their decrees work together to an extent. There were stories they were bastard sons of the demon king himself, which is why he had granted them such power despite their relatively low power levels; all of it means nothing now, because the three of them are well and truly trapped.

"You have one minute," Zeno says. "Decide."

Aranak is the Commandment of Patience; his power is _Perpetual Reproach_. If an enemy attacks him first, they will receive the blow themselves—a power not entirely dissimilar to his own _Full Counter_ —but the effects last forever until the decree is released. The only way to avoid this power is to convince Aranak to attack first.

Yet this is no simple feat as he stands beside Zeno, the Commandment of Repose. His power, _Resting Salvation_ , does not allow an enemy to remain unmoving. If he does not attack Zeno before the sixty seconds are completed, then he will activate the decree and slip into a nightmare of his own fears, until he dies from his own hand.

Meliodas grits his teeth, dropping his chin and narrowing his eyes. He and Gowther are safe, being Commandments themselves, but with Merlin they have no hope of escaping either decree. If he attacks, he will trigger Patience; if he hesitates, he will initiate Repose.

"You have to run," he says to Gowther. "Take Merlin and run."

But Gowther shakes his head. "We can't, you know we can't," he argues.

"Forty seconds."

His hearts pound in his chest. _Think, think_.

"Thirty seconds."

He needs to get them out of there, and fast. But there is no escape except through Aranak and Zeno. Meliodas thinks of what Elizabeth will say when he returns to her with the limp body of Merlin, who dies from his own _Hellblaze_ sent back towards them. Or will the girl fall to her nightmares instead, screaming in madness until she claws herself to death? Either way, the goddess will be devastated. She will never forgive him, and Meliodas cannot blame her for that.

He glances over at his two companions. Merlin's eyes are wide with fear, almost pleading with him to say something. Gowther holds her tightly, almost fatherly, and Meliodas swallows thickly at the sight. Her own parents are gone, because of his clan and Elizabeth's. The war caused this. How many innocents had suffered, just as she is about to? Never once had he cared to imagine it, but now he sees: the frail body crumpled in the ground, barely breathing, Elizabeth's wings brushing against him as she rushed forward to save her.

" _The king and queen have sentenced these people to die. Would you defy their word for one little girl?"_

" _Yes. The least I can do is this."_

"Merlin," he says suddenly, and she inhales sharply. "You can stop time using _Infinity_ , can't you? That's how you survived Belialuin."

She presses her lips together into a thin line before nodding.

"Do it now," he hisses.

The girl's eyes shimmer with tears. "I can't!" she argues, choking on a sob. "I can't, I—"

"Twenty seconds."

"Merlin!" he barks at her, snapping her out of her panic. "You have to!"

But again the girl whimpers, shaking her head. "I don't know how! I don't know what I did. I don't—"

"Try!"

"Ten seconds."

"Merlin!" roars Meliodas.

"Merlin," says Gowther soothingly, stroking her hair. "You can do this. I will be here."

"But—"

"Three seconds."

" _Merlin!"_

"Two."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Merlin raises her hands and shouts, " _Everlasting Hour_!"

The magic is instant, and Meliodas can feel his shirt and hair blowing in the blast of energy that pours out like a burst from the girl. Slowly he blinks his eyes, but does he really? He is suspended, as if stuck, and a great heaviness presses on his limbs as he tries to move. He has to kill them, to strike both Commandments down while there is _time_ —for though Merlin's power can last forever, there is no telling how long the frightened and untried girl can hold on to the spell before it evaporates.

But he won't move, his legs and arms frozen. He can feel the sweat on his brow paused in their trail down his skin, can feel the handle of his weapon firm in his hand but cannot even squeeze his fingers around it. His eyes are on Merlin, whose face is scrunched up and hands balled into tight fists, she and Gowther frozen as well… until she opens her eyes.

Like a dream she looks around, her mouth opening in surprise before curling into a smirk. She shimmies down from Gowther's lap, the man's arms remaining in the air, halted in their comforting hug. Merlin takes another look around, glancing eagerly at Meliodas, until her gaze turns to the demons behind them.

"You," she says quietly. "I remember you."

He would frown if he were not immobile, wondering what she means. Surely there is some way she can release him from this; Meliodas tries to communicate silently to her to let him go and finish the demons so they can escape to safety. But the girl has other plans.

Carefully she steps up to Meliodas, unwrapping his fingers one by one from his sword. He can feel her touch, but cannot stop her; easily she manipulates his hand until she can take hold of the weapon.

"I never really understood, Meliodas," she says softly. "Why did the king and queen want me so badly? Why would they give me gifts just to punish me? I know I shouldn't have taken them, but I thought… I thought they would like me."

She begins examining the blade closely as she continues, "My father was angry with me but I didn't understand. I thought I could help! But I was wrong. I thought I could trust them but I was wrong.

"I want to kill them, Meliodas." Her words are hard like stone, something Meliodas would not have expected out of someone so young. His stomach sinks to remember himself as a child, reveling in destruction and slaying demons for sport. "I remember them, they came for me and my mother stood in front and told me to run, just like you did. I ran and hid and then they all died, all of them! They killed them all, and those who weren't dead just screamed and screamed."

A tear slides down her cheek, and angrily Merlin dashes it away. "I'm not running anymore," she growls. "I'm fighting."

The girl moves out of his line of vision. _Merlin!_ he tries to scream, the thought echoing through the silence that surrounds them. Then the silence is ended with an unexpected sound: the unmistakable slice of a blade into flesh, the splash of blood spilling on the stone floor, the sword making a _shunk_ again and again as it is pierced and pulled, and Meliodas knows she is stabbing the demons behind him.

A calmness overcomes him, knowing Aranak and Zeno will be dead. At least they have survived, and will escape without being caught in their decrees. But the repeating sound of violence and gore shakes his composure. For the first time in his life, he wishes for the death to stop, not because he is bored, but because he is disgusted by it.

Eventually it does, and Meliodas can hear his pulse thundering over the quiet cries of the little girl. A minute goes by as he listens to her sniffling, and then Merlin heaves a big breath. "Sir Gowther?" she calls. "I'm going to release you now."

Meliodas braces himself for the rush of magic again, but this time it is more like a weight is lifted. He stumbles forward as time returns, and begins to turn to see what has become of the two Commandments—but then he sees the look on Gowther's face, his eyes and mouth open in a horrified shout.

He spins on his heel in time to feel rather than see the spell that is barrelling towards him. Behind the shimmer in the air stand the twins, the bottom halves of them hacked into pieces. Merlin is off to the side, her tear-streaked face triumphant despite the blood and gore that now cover her. She hasn't noticed her plan has failed, her reflexes nothing like those of a Commandment.

Meliodas braces himself; although the decree will hit them, it will at least take no effect. Merlin still has his sword, so there is no possibility of performing _Full Counter_. There is no time to wonder why: why Zeno's decree still went off, why it is barrelling towards them, why the hairs on his neck stand up in response, as if there is a risk of it affecting him. He plants his feet in the split second this unfolds so that he will not lose his balance—

And then he falls, crashing to the floor.

"You little bitch!" Aranak screams, even as Zeno is bellowing, "Traitors! Traitors!"

Gowther is shouting as his vision goes black; Merlin cries out; the world is tilting. He wishes for his sword, although now it will do no good. None of this makes sense, but Meliodas knows death now that it has arrived for him, and reaches his hand out as if greeting an old friend, thinking, _this will be one last adventure._

When Meliodas opens his eyes, he is in the Fairy King's Forest. He heaves himself to sit up with a shout, his hands going to run over his body, checking for wounds. But he is whole and alive, sucking in one cleansing breath after another as he looks around.

It is evening, the sun leaving pink and orange streaks that paint the trees and ground. The air is warm and sweet and only the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves can be heard. How did he get here? But it doesn't matter, and for the first time in his life he is glad to be alive.

"Meliodas!"

Her voice breaks through his dreamlike state, and in wonder he turns. Elizabeth comes running through the trees, throwing herself at him, her hands circling his neck tightly. Meliodas hesitates for a moment before he wraps his own around her waist. He pulls her onto his lap and presses his face to her neck, unable to speak just yet. He shuts his eyes tightly and thanks whoever is listening for this chance to hold her again.

Her lips move over his temple as he presses his ear to her chest. He can hear her heart beating, the sound soothing his nerves. "Meliodas…" she whispers against his cheek. Then their mouths meet, softly, slowly, and his fingers clench against her back.

Elizabeth pulls away and strokes his cheek. "You're here," she sighs. She presses her forehead against his, and together they share a breath, his lips and arms shaking.

Finally he leans back to look at her. "How did I get here?" he asks.

The goddess simply shakes her head. "I don't know. I don't know where we are."

"Isn't…" Meliodas looks around with a frown. "Isn't this the forest?"

Elizabeth does not answer. Instead, she continues to stroke his cheek, her eyes filled with something that calls to his soul. "You saved me," she says with a smile.

His brows draw slightly together as he says, "Elizabeth?"

"Did you feel it?" Her eyes are unfocused as they gaze into his. "It was a goddess."

"What?" Meliodas grabs her by the arms and holds her away from him. "What are you saying?"

Her eyes go suddenly wide, wild and bright with fear. "I can't breathe!" she cries. "The fire! The fire, it's—"

The goddess lets go a scream that tears from her throat and cuts him in half. He shouts something, but Elizabeth falls backwards, jerking from his grip and crashing to the ground. Then she is twisting, sobbing, as if something is hurting her. Bruises begin to form on her arms and legs, and she puts her arms up to cover her face. "Please!" she screams. "Please don't kill me!"

"Elizabeth! _Elizabeth!_ " Frantically he tries to pull her up against him, but she is too far gone in her pain, her body beginning to convulse.

After an awful, frozen minute, she stops. He whispers her name and she gasps; then her eyes close and she breathes her last.

Meliodas stares down in horror. Her bruises begin to fade, but he does not see that: all he sees is the stillness of her chest and the paleness of her cheeks. His own body is cold, terribly cold, and that shakes him from his stupor. Where are his powers? Where is his decree? Whoever has done this to her, he should pay. They _will_ pay.

The demon looks down at his arms, but they are free of the dark ink. His skin is cool to the touch, even when he lifts his hand to test his brow. There is no demon mark there—and he remembers.

Zeno's decree affected him. He had been unable to escape his attack. But how is that possible? Meliodas is a Commandment, same as he. Their powers have no effect one on another. There is only one way for that to have happened: his decree has been taken. And only the king himself has that power.

Meliodas' chest squeezes tightly as he stares at Elizabeth's body. Is this the decree? Is this real, or a dream? Is he caught in an unending nightmare, or is she really dead on the floor of the Fairy King's Forest?

The loss is overwhelming: not just of Elizabeth, although seeing her body devoid of life is worse than he had thought. His mind clings to the hope that this is a vision, gripping his sanity and his control before they slip away forever. No, not just Elizabeth, but the loss of it all: his decree, his clan, his place in his father's kingdom. His life is gone, the life he hated, but now without Elizabeth there is no alternative. At least his past existence had her in it. Now there is nothing.

Without warning, her eyes open. Elizabeth gasps, choking on her breath, blinking rapidly. Meliodas gives a cry of shock and leans over her, his palm wiping her hair back. "Elizabeth!" he cries, his vision swimming. "Elizabeth, are you here? Are you here?"

"Meliodas?" It's her voice, but there is pain and fear in it that grip his heart. "Meliodas, they are coming, they are—Meliodas!"

She scrambles to her knees, her eyes seeing nothing, her arms out to defend herself. "No! No, no please, please, _please_!"

Meliodas watches as her dress rips open, and underneath her body turns red. Blood comes out of her mouth, and she collapses forward with hands out. He is up on his feet to fight whoever is there, but there is no one; no one but them, alone in the forest.

Elizabeth cries into the dirt, choking on her blood. Meliodas rolls her over, but by the time he can see what has happened she is gone again. Her eyes are closed and her chin is red, and Meliodas opens her dress with trembling hands. Underneath her body is a mess, and his stomach turns painfully as he recognizes the work. It is a maneuver he uses often to kill his opponent; with it death is painful but quick. The demon continues staring in shock at the handiwork so like his own when Elizabeth opens her eyes and says his name.

"Stop." Meliodas pounds on the ground with his fists. "Stop this! Stop!"

Over and over he watches Elizabeth die.

She screams as she is set on fire; she chokes as an invisible hand goes to her neck; she goes numb and slack with a slice across her spine. Once her head comes off, rolling to his feet where he sits against a tree. Another time she takes her own life, plunging a weapon into her heart as tears roll down her cheeks. Again and again Meliodas watches as his sins are played out in front of him. Elizabeth dies a death for every one of the victims he has ever taken. The death he had prided himself on for so long perform in a grotesque review before his eyes.

Every time, she wakes up and calls his name. If he had wished to block out the horror, it becomes impossible with her voice. It pulls on his hearts, even as he knows her death is inevitable each time. Each one he remembers, their blood and their cries intermixing with hers, until it is a blend of fever and agony.

Meliodas knows this is how his life will end. Hours go by, days even, as Elizabeth dies one death after another. Time is gone, just as frozen as when Merlin had used her ability. All that exists is Elizabeth and Meliodas, trapped in this nightmare. His power and his strength and his magic are useless to save her; all he can do is sit and watch in a misery he has earned.

At one point, however, he looks away. He curses his fate and his existence. The greatest demon in Britannia taken down by his own hubris; the decree of one he commands has brought him to his knees. He winces as Elizabeth calls out for him, the silk of her voice wrapping around his neck. Why can't it be him? Why can't he be the one to die? He knows Merlin must have done the demons damage; but they must not be dead. If they were he would be free of this trap, but it has been years, centuries, a lifetime of killing.

She is choking again, and he can imagine it is his boot on her neck, watching her with curiosity as some other version of himself takes her life. The only way to escape a decree is death. But how?

"Meliodas."

He looks around, trying to spy something that will be a weapon. He can make a spear from the branches, perhaps? Or find something on the ground, something sharp. In a sudden frenzy his hands scrabble across the ground as he turns over one pebble after another.

"Meliodas!"

There is something different about that one. He is terrified to turn around, but when could he deny her? So he looks and finds Elizabeth sitting in the grass, just as she had when she first arrived. Her hair is smoothed and her dress clean, no signs of the torture she had just endured.

"Don't worry," he whispers. "This will be over soon. I promise."

But Elizabeth shakes her head. "Meliodas, open your eyes."

The sob he had been holding back the entire time bursts out of him. He grips his hair in his hands and shouts, "I can't Elizabeth! We're stuck here! We're trapped and I—"

"Meliodas," she says quietly. "Open your eyes."

The demon can hardly breathe, but instead of opening them, he closes his eyelids. The world goes dark before a buzzing sound startles him; then voices, and he opens his eyes to a dark ceiling and the smell of blood.

"Meliodas! Meliodas!"

He looks over to see Merlin crouched over him. Her face and hair have streaks of dark red and her eyes are swollen from crying, but when their eyes connect she gives a wail. "You're awake! You're awake!"

Cautiously he sits up, the room spinning just a bit. Is this still the decree, or is it over? Across the room lay the corpses of Aranak and Zeno. Gowther is still there, working on a spell by the looks of his deep concentration and quickly moving lips.

Merlin grabs his face and turns him towards her. "You're alive, I'm so sorry, I'm so—" She cuts herself off by hugging him tightly, and it's so similar to Elizabeth that he nearly panics. "You're awake, Meliodas, you're awake!"

"What happened?" he asks, his voice coming in a rasp.

"The decree," she says. "Gowther said you were hit. I didn't do it in time, he got it out before I could stop the time—and it hit you, Meliodas. You were dead, at least I thought you were, and we had to wait until _they_ died—" here she looks over at the former Commandments, "—until they died for you to wake up. That's what Gowther said."

"But I…" Still reeling, he climbs heavily to his feet. "Gowther, what—"

"It seems you have been stripped of your decree," Gowther says with a clipped tone. "That's the only explanation. Which means you need to go, and _now_."

"What?" Hearing the truth makes his stomach turn. Meliodas raises a trembling hand to press on his forehead; to his relief the burn of the demon mark is there, and now he can feel the drum of his innate power through his veins. But Gowther is correct: his Commandment is gone.

"Take Merlin with you. This will only work for a few moments. I can't do it for any longer."

Meliodas shakes his head, stumbling forward until he can grip the arm of his chair, steadying him. "I'm not going without you."

Gowther presses his lips together tightly before meeting his eyes. "You are not my Captain anymore, so I don't have to take your orders. I'm preparing a teleportation spell. It will only work for a few moments, and it will only work if I stay here. Merlin must get back to the forest. You have to take her."

"Then I'll stay too," he argues, "I'll make sure—"

"The king won't have me killed, you and I both know that," interrupts Gowther. "Elizabeth and Merlin need you. So does the alliance. I'll be fine here. I can look for an end to the war, and my doll will be there to assist you when you need him." Then his eyes dart to Merlin. "Take hold of his hand."

A small palm immediately presses on his, tugging him from the chair. Meliodas tries to fight but his weakened state allows Merlin to pull him back. "This isn't right! We can't just leave you!"

"Protect them, Meliodas," Gowther says, before he snaps out of sight.


	21. Chapter Twenty: Binds of War

**A/N:** This chapter would not have happened without my beta, Galfridus. I can't thank you enough.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: Binds of War**

 _Peace, my heart, let the time for  
the parting be sweet.  
Let it not be a death but completeness.  
Let love melt into memory and pain  
into songs.  
Let the flight through the sky end  
in the folding of the wings over the  
nest.  
Let the last touch of your hands be  
gentle like the flower of the night.  
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a  
moment, and say your last words in  
silence.  
I bow to you and hold up my lamp  
to light you on your way._

— _Rabindrinath Tagore_

Elizabeth watches as wave after wave of the soldiers take to the air, goddesses and fairies heading out of the forest towards the demons' stronghold to fight. She remembers her last day in the Celestial Realm, how she had watched the goddesses, her own friends, taking off to battle. Her heart had been just as heavy from grief over Mael's death and her mother's lies. Now she is anxious for her new life away from the goddesses and with Meliodas, but can feel it slipping away with each group of soldiers that take to the air.

Afterwards she waits at the Sacred Tree with Gerheade, exchanging uncomfortable pleasantries as they both try to not bring up the battle that is raging hundreds of miles away. They had seen the armies off that morning before being left alone, Gerheade finally inviting her for a tour and Elizabeth eagerly agreeing. The fairy explained that as the Holy Maiden she must stay while the king is away, but the goddess barely listens. Eventually they lapse into silence, Gerheade leading her to an area inside the base of the Tree that is set aside as a parlor of sorts.

There are some remarks about the weather, but other than that the girls sit without speaking. The space between them seems to grow by the moment until finally Elizabeth can take it no longer.

"Your Highness—" she begins, just as Gerheade says, "Princess—" and both dissolve into laughter, the tension now gone.

"Please go ahead," Elizabeth tells her kindly.

"I just wanted to know…" Gerheade looks down at her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Are you sure you can trust him, my lady? From what Gloxinia says, you've only made his acquaintance a few weeks ago."

There is no doubt who the _him_ the fairy refers to is, and Elizabeth sighs. "I do trust him. My heart trusts him. I can't explain it, and maybe I never will." She looks around at the flora and foliage that surrounds them. "My life has been nothing but marble walls and locked windows. Even out here, where there is the threat of losing everything, I am happier than I was in my mother's castle. And it's because of Meliodas."

She notes Gerheade's shiver at his name. "But _that_ one, Elizabeth," the fairy whispers. "The rumors about him are terrible. I've seen the destruction myself."

Elizabeth clears her throat. "Surely in a war such things would be—after all there are no truly innocent sides in this and—"

"So you don't know then, do you?"

The goddess frowns and shakes her head. Gerheade's expression turns painful before it smoothes into a royal mask Elizabeth knows well. "He's the reason why we are here. Him and his Ten Commandments."

The fairy shifts in her seat. "Our clan was allowed to roam freely before. The forest was our home and the source of our power but we could travel through Britannia and interact with the other clans. But then one day…" She clears her throat before looking Elizabeth squarely in the eye. "They attacked a settlement of humans, and some of us fairies were there. The demons killed many of both clans. For some imagined slight, most likely. They burned everything we had. I was lucky to escape, and I remember their eyes… so dark, so cold."

"I'm sorry—"

"He gave you your freedom and stole mine."

Elizabeth sucks in a sharp breath, ready to defend him, but how? "Was Meliodas there?" she asks.

"I don't know," she admits. "There are more of them as well, who bring their own rumors. One brother is as lethal as your demon, and named the king's executioner. He kills without hesitation or feeling. He only obeys orders."

Elizabeth blushes and looks away. That would be Zeldris, the one that was at Belialuin—and the one who is now in love. "Perhaps he has no choice," she murmurs.

"We all have choices, princess," snaps the fairy, the pretence of decorum retreating with each word. "The other is a walking nightmare. He takes pleasure in his sins, and pleasure in his victims too, if the rumors are true." Gerheade shudders again. "They eat souls and think nothing of torture. They cannot love."

"That's not true!" The girls stare at one another, Gerheade's expression widening in surprise as Elizabeth grows heated. "They do love. The executioner—his name is Zeldris—he loves another. He is trying to save her, even now. And Gowther, he is part of their clan and is not that way. He cares a great deal for Merlin."

Gerheade is glaring at her now but has the sense to hold her tongue. But the princess is too incensed to restrain herself, rushing on, "And I know Meliodas is… I know what he has done. I know this. But he rescued me from a life of lies. The goddesses, the ones held on the pedestal among the clan, have killed and tortured and taken their own pleasure. I've seen _that_ myself.

"And I've also seen… I've seen Meliodas be kind. I've seen him be gentle." Her cheeks flush as she thinks of his hand on her cheek. "He saved my life, defended me against those who should have protected me. He is more than a killer, just like the goddesses are more than guardians of light, just like the fairy clan are more than children in the forest. None of us are innocent; we all must atone and grow together."

Elizabeth swallows, expecting the maiden to argue back; instead Gerheade bows her head and uses a hand to wipe her cheeks. "You're right," she says quietly. "We all have a part in this. I shouldn't be so quick to judge. Will you forgive me?"

She looks so earnest that Elizabeth stands and rushes forward, embracing her tightly. "There is nothing to forgive. Doubts are a part of life. And trust is not easy, and must be earned." The goddess eases back and takes Gerheade's hands. "I'm sorry that happened to you. I understand why you are wary of Meliodas. But I can see in his eyes he is sincere. And I hope we can change the rest of the clan as well, and the goddesses, and put an end to this war."

Gerheade peers at her closely before nodding. "I believe you, Elizabeth. If anyone can do it, I think it would be you."

The goddess smiles, thankful for the moment; but then pauses. Is Gerheade sincere? Does the fairy truly believe in her, or is this her magic, once more influencing the hearts of others?

She jerks her hands away, suddenly afraid, but before she can ask further there is a commotion nearby. Both jump to their feet and hurry from the base of the tree. The army is beginning to return, fairies and goddesses carrying the injured as they are quickly tended to by Gloxinia.

Pulling up short, Elizabeth takes in the scene, barely believing her eyes. Dozens are sitting on the ground, some being tended to if their physical wounds cannot heal fast enough by their own magic. The king uses his Sacred Spear to heal some, but there are so _many_ , more wounded than she had ever imagined, even in the worst moments. Her ears are at once filled with moans and curses even as her eyes take in the gore. So many times she had watched one battle or another through the looking-glass in the palace, but it had never done justice to the deep color of red on the ground or the copper tang in the air, the pain on their faces, the confusion and disarray among the group.

Gerheade takes off at once to assist, and Elizabeth knows she should go as well, but does not move. She is ashamed of her cowardice, but it overtakes her nonetheless. Is this what Jelamet has seen? Ludoshel and Mael? Has her mother ever stood before her injured goddesses, her own people, and been horrified at what they had done?

She remembers what Gerheade had told her about the attack on the fairies and humans, and Elizabeth's stomach turns. This is one more thing she is experiencing for the first time, one more way her ignorance is on display. Meliodas had told her none of this was a game, and now she understands what he means. How many times has he seen this? How could he watch this over and over and over again?

Her eyes scan the crowd for Meliodas, but in vain. Each second that ticks by as she looks for him makes her heart sink.

Then a hand is on her arm, yanking her sharply, and Elizabeth finds herself face-to-face with Ludoshel. "There you are," he says, his voice both velvet and poison. "There are goddesses who have been hurt to help your traitorous friends. Now do your duty and help them."

Elizabeth pulls her arm away, holding herself with as much dignity she can muster. "Of course I will help."

Brushing by him, the princess heads towards the group, kneeling by the first and summoning her magic. Elizabeth swallows around the lump that rises as she takes in the injuries, sweat breaking out on her brow from her fear and the way it besets her senses. She bows her head in a prayer for healing, trying to mimic what she had done for Merlin, and then Meliodas, and trying not to worry for either as she works.

* * *

Meliodas enters the makeshift camp carrying Merlin, and their eyes connect immediately. Feathers and silver hair fly in a whirlwind and then he has the goddess also in his arms, both girls clinging to each other and him and the demon is nearly knocked over by their joyful reunion. Elizabeth pulls Merlin from him and cuddles her closely, the girl talking a mile a minute through her tears as the goddess kisses her cheeks. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she repeats over and over, checking the girl.

She draws back in horror to see the blood, and Meliodas quickly says, "It's not hers."

Elizabeth's eyes go wide as she looks at him, and Merlin abruptly stops talking. The three share a tense moment before she nods. "All right then. Come along, you both need food and rest."

Deciding not to argue, he follows as she leads them through the injured, holding Merlin against her shoulder to shield her from the gore. But the girl looks around curiously, and Meliodas grumbles under his breath. Elizabeth presses him to sit on the ground by the Sacred Tree, returning shortly with some fruit and bread before leading Merlin away.

Silently he picks at his food, taking a bite of the fruit before pushing it away. He swallows thickly around the sweet liquid now on his tongue and flexes his hands, looking down at the healed cuts that shine with fresh skin. For a moment he hesitates, then Meliodas calls on his demon power, huffing in relief when a small flash of violet flame erupts from his hand. He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands, staring at the ground as he thinks.

"Here."

He looks up to see Gloxinia offering him a cup. Gratefully he takes it, the cold water tasting fresh and soothing the fire in his chest. "I see the girl is back," Gloxinia says. "Where is the other?"

"Still there." Meliodas wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before offering the cup back.

He peeks up through matted bangs to see Gloxinia frowning. "You failed your mission."

Meliodas shrugs. "And you?"

"We secured all the goddesses and fairies being held there. A handful of humans as well." The king sighs and shakes his head. "Not very many losses on either side, but enough I suppose."

A creeping feeling wedges inside the demon. His years of training, his upbringing and position have taught him not to care about such things. Generals have no time for caring over loss of life.

"Thank you," Meliodas answers.

The king looks as surprised as he feels, and then nods before leaving him alone again.

No one else approaches him, which Meliodas feels is just as well. He takes the time to silently process all that has happened, brooding over the loss of his Commandment and what it will mean for both him and Elizabeth. He supposes that he can safely assume he will no longer be the next king, and even chuckles to himself as the realization sinks into his consciousness. The one thing he never wanted is the one thing he must have, now that it is gone.

 _Zeldris will be glad to rule_ , he thinks, knowing Estarossa will not even be a choice: his magic is too unstable to lead their clan. Suddenly he remembers their last meeting, and the vampire girl who had been sentenced to die. Meliodas curses under his breath as he recalls his promise. Where is Zeldris now? Has the girl been destroyed? He lowers his head and balls his fingers into fists, his arms trembling with the vileness of it all.

His name draws his attention. The demon looks up to see the light is beginning to fade into dusk, and Merlin and Elizabeth have returned. The girl is cleaned up now, hair damp and munching on fruit, plopping down next to him on the moss. "Did you eat?"

He nods and turns to watch Elizabeth take a seat as well. Her wings flutter briefly before folding neatly behind her as she tucks her legs to the side. But the goddess does not meet his eye, instead leaning in a bit to murmur, "Merlin, you promised me you would rest."

"I am resting," she protests. "See?"

The girl grabs his arm and presses her head against his shoulder. Meliodas stiffens, sitting rigidly. Elizabeth sighs as she tucks a bit of hair behind the girl's ear. "You must be so tired."

Merlin shrugs, and the goddess smiles. "You're safe."

"They got into the forest before," she argues. "Why won't they just do it again?"

"Because I wasn't here." Meliodas looks down to see the girl's large, dark eyes peer up at him. "The demons wouldn't dare come while I am in the forest."

"But you are a demon." Merlin is very matter-of-fact, her tone sharp but not accusing. "You're one of them."

"Not anymore," Elizabeth assures her.

Finally she glances up, and their eyes meet. She looks almost startled, blinking several times before shaking her head. Meliodas frowns, wondering about her sudden change in demeanor. "What is it?" he demands.

Elizabeth shakes her head. "It's nothing, I… I never saw all that before today." She shudders a bit as her lashes flutter. "I was glad to be here, to help, but all that—that…" Her voice fades away with a sigh. "This war has to _end_."

He notes her hand as it clenches into a fist, ripping up blades of grass before pounding into the dirt. "No war lasts forever," he advises. "One or the other must lose."

"That isn't a comfort," she hisses.

"It's okay, Sissy," Merlin interjects. "Meliodas will protect us. And I can too."

The goddess smiles placatingly, but the girl lifts her head and insists, "I can! I saved Meliodas _and_ Gowther. I used my magic and I—"

She stops, freezing against him, and Meliodas clears his throat as Elizabeth looks at him. "What happened?" she demands. "Why was she covered in blood but had no injuries?"

Merlin shrinks a bit, but Meliodas explains simply, "Two of the Ten Commandments were there. They sent an attack that could have killed us. But Merlin stopped time, and while we were frozen, she killed them herself."

Elizabeth gasps as her hands fly to her face. "How awful!" Quickly she reaches out and hauls Merlin against her, kissing her head. "The poor girl," she whispers, brushing her brow with her fingertips. "You've been through so much, and now this…"

"She's not as fragile as you would assume," Meliodas replies.

Something tugs in his chest when her lower lip trembles. "It's not right," she says. "Merlin is just a child. She should not suffer so."

"I didn't suffer," Merlin insists. She pulls out of Elizabeth's tight embrace. "I liked it. I liked saving them. I liked killing the demons."

Elizabeth's eyes seem to dull as her mouth opens to respond, only to close it again. Meliodas watches with interest before being struck with a thought: a younger version of himself, the same age as Merlin, running through the halls of the demon king's palace and killing servants in his path. The scream of the little girl whose arm he took, receiving his first punishment for it. It had felt powerful, the way the girl had cried making him laugh, the stream of blood that followed her as she bolted down the hallway. He remembers crouching to pick up the forgotten arm, groaning with a grotesque delight at the spongy, gray flesh and the pieces of bone that stuck to the bloody stump.

As Merlin tells her tale of being in prison and their escape, more images come to mind. Crafting swords and weapons out of anything he could find, knocking over the cradle that contained one of his brothers—he can't remember which. Watching with fascination as the enemy was tortured in the king's hall, Chandler teaching him how to slice a dragon open to keep its heart beating while harvesting meat. His hands and body covered in blood, sneaking around the castle like the wild thing he had been born to be, his roar of triumph echoing in the stone halls as he leapt from the turrets and his wings expanded behind him for the first time.

Then a final memory surfaces: standing on the marble steps of the Celestial Realm, dressed in heavy, regal clothing, clutching a small silver box under his arm.

Meliodas turns to ask about the box, but hesitates when he finds her humming softly, smiling at Merlin who has now fallen asleep and is curled in the grass. The sun has practically set, the world a mix of violets and blues, and Meliodas simply stares at the goddess as she strokes the girl's hair. Not wanting to ruin the moment, he decides to hold his question, enjoying the simple peace after the early morning and the terror of the battle that came afterwards.

The quiet doesn't last as long as he would like. "Did she really kill them?" Elizabeth whispers.

The demon nods. "You should be proud of her."

"Proud? Of _killing_?" Elizabeth glares at him with wild eyes, making him feel ashamed. "How could you say such a thing? She's just a child!"

"She's more than a child," he argues back, but then reins in his temper. "Merlin has seen more than most. She saved my life. I would have died there if she had not acted."

Elizabeth's hand hesitates in its pattern on Merlin's hair. "I'm glad you are all safe. But I do not like this. I don't want Merlin to—to be _that_."

"To be what? A killer?" Meliodas scoffs and turns away.

There is a pause, and then he feels her pressing against him, her head nuzzling into his neck. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

Meliodas thinks he will refuse her; as comforting as her presence is, especially now that it is pressing on his side, he will not give either of them the satisfaction of drawing her closer. But Elizabeth's hand cups his cheek, pulling his face back towards her, and she seals their mouths together in a kiss.

This one is different than the others, and Elizabeth takes the lead. Meliodas melts into her touch, her lips soft and full against his, her tongue brushing insistently against them. With a growl he opens and a spark ignites in his chest that blooms as heat rushes through his veins. The goddess slides her tongue against his, hesitant and sweet, and Meliodas allows it, sinking against her as his heart pounds. Elizabeth slides her arms around his shoulders in response, pulling him close, and as her breasts flatten against his chest and her mouth tilts sweetly over his he succumbs to instinct and reaches to grab her hips.

But the goddess pulls him in, her mouth sucking on his over and over until his brow loses its tension and his head spins. Elizabeth begins drawing patterns in his hair where her fingers brush the gold strands, scratching against his scalp with swirls that match the movement of their tongues. Meliodas at once regrets the first two kisses they had shared: the first arrogant, the second lascivious, both so unlike _her_ , thrilling and tender and filled with longing.

Eventually she pulls away and presses her forehead to his. "I'm sorry," she says.

Meliodas clings to the back of her shirt, looking in her eyes that are bright. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he sighs.

"I've had enough. Enough killing and enough death. Enough blood." She searches his face as he frowns slightly. "I want to end the war."

"It's not that simple," he begins to protest.

But she cuts him off with a smile. "It could be, if you wanted."

* * *

Marriage is not a very common practice among the demons or the goddesses. The idea seems nonsensical, pledging a life to another when their lives are nearly endless. Such commitment is only usual among royalty, who use such alliances as a way to secure and further power. Demons and goddesses may take a mate, fall in love, bear children, move on to others without ever uttering such a powerful oath. It is considered a part of life, and not managed or governed outside of a handful of norms that are not binding.

Because of this, weddings are even more of an anomaly. The ceremonies are only held as a public declaration of the union, and often lavish affairs to show off the power and influence of the families involved. Basically, it is all for show.

Elizabeth had never imagined her own to be such a simple affair, particularly when she had found out she was to marry the prince of demons. She had imagined a long gown weighed heavily with jewels, yards and yards of silk and gossamer, dripping with pearls and diamonds and sapphires. She had pictured hundreds of guests, all eyes on her, waiting for her to stumble over her feet or her words, waiting to see if the princess would dare take the hand of the future king, waiting until their bond was made and set the future of Britannia in stone.

Instead Elizabeth wears a simple dress of white lace. Instead of jewels she has flowers in her hair; instead of hundreds of shrewd eyes, there is only Gloxinia and Gerheade standing in the alcove under the tree. The ceremony will be a secret they share, here in the middle of the night under the Sacred Tree, now that everyone else is gone or asleep. The promise is only temporary until their alliances are finalized, agreed by all for their safety. Her heart is beating wildly as she enters under the draping pink blossoms, the world around her ceasing when she sees Meliodas waiting for her.

His own pulse drowns out all else as she walks towards him. Her feet are bare as she walks through the dark grass and and her silver hair seems to glow in a halo under the moonlight, making the goddess all the more charming. Meliodas himself wears a simple white shirt and dark pants, not unlike what the king had made him before. He has no sword at his side, no weapon or regalia, the only thing even identifying him as a demon the fading dark marks on his skin and his dark eyes. None of it matters, however, because now Elizabeth is taking his hands and stands before him in a shimmering glory that he knows he will never get enough of.

"Are you sure about this?" The spell breaks with Gloxinia's voice, who stands in front of the couple. Next to him is the Holy Maiden to give witness to the union, her expression as wary as the king's.

"Yes," Meliodas says. "Elizabeth was promised to me long ago. We are fulfilling a promise now."

Gloxinia presses his lips together before glancing at the goddess. "And you, Elizabeth?"

Meliodas feels relief when she nods. "The goddess and demon clans will be united," she replies firmly. "This is the first step to lasting peace."

"Very well."

Gloxinia nods to Gerheade before turning back to the couple. "Take each other's right hand."

Reluctantly Meliodas lets her go, but then offers his hand, palm side up. Elizabeth's smile only brightens as she lays her own palm onto his, her fingers almost ticklish as the graze the heel of his hand, the flesh of her wrist soft under his fingertips. As they gaze at one another, Gerheade approaches with a long cord, braided with black and white strips of what Meliodas decides must be silk when it touches his skin. Carefully the fairy wraps it around their hands, slowly and deliberately covering every inch from her fingertips to his as Gloxinia speaks.

"Meliodas, son of the king of demons. Elizabeth, daughter of the queen of goddesses. You offer your lives freely to this union?"

"I do," Elizabeth says quietly, and Meliodas nods. "I do as well."

"From today forward you walk as one, joined in commitment and intention. Your souls will be bound by your oath through this life and beyond."

Elizabeth cannot stop grinning, despite knowing how solemn this ceremony is. What she said had been true, they were doing this to fulfill their promise, and to save Britannia by ending the war. But there is more, inside her heart, and as Gloxinia speaks, as she gazes at Meliodas under the moonlit tree, their future becomes clear. What was all frightening and unknown no longer matters. All that she wants is here, holding her hand, and the proof is in the green eyes that stay connected with hers with unwavering resolve.

"Your hands are tied just as your lives now are tied in joy and responsibility. From today forward you are bound to one another in a marriage that is lifelong."

 _Lifelong_ , lifelong, yes, the word echoes through Meliodas' mind. His entire life has been this, hasn't it? Seeking, searching for something, but he could never place it. But now that he knows a soft touch and a kind smile, knows how it feels to fear and to want and to enjoy, knows the deep burning to protect something else—to love, although the word still feels foreign—the demon understands. He understands why others fight, because he would fight every day to keep her safe. He understands sacrifice now. He understands life.

"Will you honor one another in this binding?"

"Yes."

"Will you share one another's pain and seek to ease it?"

"Yes."

"Will you trust in your vows and open yourselves to one another?"

"Yes."

"Will you remain bound your entire lives, only parting upon death?"

Elizabeth smiles, and Meliodas is overwhelmed by her beauty. "Yes, I will."

Then Meliodas nods, his own expression still stern, but the corners of his lips curling a bit. "I will."

There is a pause, world stopping for a moment to bear witness to the union now made. "Go forth from this moment as husband and wife," Gloxinia says quietly. "With a kiss you make the covenant sealed."

Her heart beats so wildly she is sure they can all hear it. Their hands are still bound by the silk cord, but Elizabeth feels his palm twitch slightly as he steps forward. Then he is leaning in, and so is she, a breath shared between them for just a second before lips brush against lips. Hearts flutter, skin heats, a sigh and a smile, as the goddess and demon kiss under the moon and seal their fate together for all time.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One: The Silver Box

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Silver Box**

 _Gently, let us steep our love  
In the silence deep, as thus,  
Branches arching high above  
Twine their shadows over us._

 _Let us yield then, you and I,  
To the waftings, calm and sweet,  
As their breeze-blown lullaby  
Sways the gold grass at your feet._

 _And, when night begins to fall  
From the black oaks, darkening,  
In the nightingale's soft call  
Our despair will, solemn, sing._

— _Paul Verlaine_

* * *

Meliodas lifts the flap of the tent and waits, gesturing for Elizabeth to enter first. She smiles at him shyly and steps through, pausing just inside as he moves to light the candles in the hanging lanterns. Instead of spending their wedding night at the Sacred Tree, Gerheade had arranged a large tent prepared for them in the forest so they could be alone.

She watches as he walks about the room slowly becoming visible with the warm glow of each lantern. The room must have been hastily arranged, but the little candles in the lanterns and the plush decorations are enough to make it cozy. There is an actual bed inside, piled with pillows and a down comforter, small tables on either side holding vases of flowers. There is another to the side with a basin of water and clean towels, two stools underneath and a pitcher of water with two glasses on top.

Her eyes glance at the bed and then quickly away. Once Meliodas is finished with the candles, the tent has an inviting feel to it, the furnishings casting long shadows along the canvas. It would be almost eerie if not for the soft grass that serves as carpet under her feet and the cool air of the night. Outside the forest is filled with a peaceful orchestra of insects calling to one another and the slightly bending branches of the trees respond with a soft brushing sound as they are blown against the sides of the tent.

Meliodas is watching her, but trying not to, so Elizabeth walks to the table and lays down her satchel. It is the only thing she had brought from the Celestial Realm. During their escape she had carried a nearly unconscious Meliodas in a furious dash to her room, sure that her mother would recover and be after them at any moment. But it only took a few precious seconds to grab her satchel and throw a handful of things in before taking off out of the window. Her wings had unfolded as she clung to Meliodas, beating rapidly in an effort to ease their flight to earth.

She removes her cloak, another item from the Celestial Realm, and drapes it carefully over the table. The walk from the tree to their tent had been a bit chilly on her bare arms, and she was grateful for the garment as Meliodas had led her carefully through the trees, his hand tightly closed around hers. Her heart pounds so loudly she is sure he can hear it. The only other sound is her breathing, which Elizabeth desperately tries to keep even.

A hand touches her elbow, and Elizabeth jumps, giving a nervous laugh when she sees Meliodas standing in front of her. "Elizabeth," he whispers.

Her heart seizes as she wonders how he is feeling. She wants to ask, but how? Surely he will laugh at her.

But she does not need to decide, because the hand on her elbow gently tugs her forward, and then his mouth is on hers, the kiss registering moments after they connect. Elizabeth sighs against his lips, relaxing instantly; Meliodas kisses her slowly, chastely, just like the one they had shared after their vows. He tastes like the honey wine Gloxinia had provided as the four of them toasted the secret nuptials: sweet with a hint of strawberry and morning dew.

It does not last longer than a few moments. Then he ends the kiss, his hand still firm on her elbow, and he says, "Come."

Meliodas pulls her towards the bed, and the pounding of her heart returns—but then she tugs out of his grip, crying, "Wait!"

Immediately he stops, looking patiently over his shoulder. "We have to, Elizabeth, or else it won't be—"

"I know that, yes of course," she replies, her voice shaking as she once more laughs in a shrill, nervous tone. "I know—" Elizabeth clears her throat. "I know what is done on a wedding night."

Meliodas nods. "I'll do my best not to hurt you."

Her stomach flips. She is sure he means it, and she trusts him completely; but hearing him say it out loud, in his very matter-of-fact way, makes the possibility too real.

"It's not that," she replies quietly. "But before we—begin, I want to give you something first."

He frowns at her, his brows drawing down tightly, but Elizabeth only nods. Then she picks up the satchel and grabs his hand, pulling him to the bed, where they both settle on one side, facing one another.

"What is it?" he asks.

Elizabeth's eyes stay on the bag in her lap as she speaks. "The day we left the Celestial Realm, when you came and fought the queen, I had stopped to take something with me. Something that is very important." Her hands smooth over the fabric. "I knew even then that whatever my future would be, that you would be a part of it. Even if we did not marry, I knew we would be together, and we would work to bring peace to Britannia."

Her eyes lift to his, which are darkened by his silhouette. His body is relaxed, but poised, as if waiting for a strike. Elizabeth slides a hand forward and entwines her fingers with his, which he instantly responds to with a squeeze. "I have a wedding gift for you."

Meliodas gives a humorless chuckle. "A wedding gift?"

His expression is wry, but teasing, and Elizabeth eagerly nods. "Yes! This is something precious to me, and I'd like you to have it."

She lets go of his hand and reaches inside the satchel. "I've had this all my life, but I don't know why, or where it came from; no one would ever explain. It brought me great comfort when I was lonely or afraid, but I've come to realize it's more than that." Slowly she pulls out the small box and places it on her lap, her fingers tracing the familiar silver leaf. "This box represents my life in the Celestial Realm: hidden, secret, the truth kept from me without explanation or care."

With a deep breath Elizabeth glances upwards. She finds Meliodas staring at the box intently, his brow creased as if concentrating deeply. He must have so many questions, so she continues, "I've never opened it, not once. I was saving it for a time of need, a time when I felt so alone and hurt and helpless that I would need whatever is inside. But now with you… With you, I don't need it anymore."

The demon looks up, his eyes wide, and now she can see the deep green of his irises, which fills her chest with warmth. Elizabeth holds the box out towards him. "Here. This is yours. If you'd like, you can keep it for your own secret, or we can open it together."

He does not answer, but simply stares at the box, his face expressionless. After one moment of silence ticks by, then another, Elizabeth swallows nervously. "Is there something wrong?" she asks.

Meliodas reaches out, his hands trembling slightly as he takes the box from her hands. The memory is so clear: the steps, the coat, the echo of his insults against the marble, the touch of the goddess pressing him forward. He remembers how the leaf had felt a bit itchy against his palms, how his fingers had pressed into the sides—yes there, right there, and he runs the pad of his thumb against the small indentations left by his grip hundreds of years ago.

The leaf has dulled a bit with time, the shimmer not quite as startling as he recalls, although the memories of a child are less than trustworthy. "You've had this? All this time?"

He realizes he has spoken aloud when Elizabeth leans forward. "Yes… do you know… do you know what this is?"

Meliodas looks up with a thick swallow. "I gave this to you."

Her cheeks flush, her mouth popping open as they stare at one another. "You?" Elizabeth bends forward, blinking rapidly. "How—when—?"

"You were just a baby." He huffs a little laugh then, a smile catching the side of his mouth. "When we were promised to one another. I had to be presented to my future in-laws."

"Your—!" Instantly she bolted upright, her shoulders tense and her eyes incredibly wide. "You saw me as a baby?"

He nods. "Chandler had stuffed me into a suit and I yelled at him and at the goddesses waiting in the hall. I was never one for manners." The demon snorts and shakes his head. "Then I brought this gift in and was told to give it to you. I remember walking to the cradle and looking inside. You were all blankets, practically. And there was something else too… something else." He frowns as he tries to remember more.

"I can't believe this," breathes Elizabeth, glancing away in thought. "All this time I was waiting, waiting to open it or give it away and then—here you are."

They stare at one another once more, the connection between them startling and strong. Meliodas can feel his hearts pounding as he gazes at the goddess, whose smile is so pure and beautiful it soothes something deep inside of him. Then she slides a bit closer so their thighs press together. "Will you open it?" she asks quietly. "I want to see what is inside."

Meliodas nods. Carefully he slips his finger underneath the silver leaves that are pressed together, breaking the seal on the box. Underneath is the wooden surface; once most of the silver leaves are scattered around them, falling away as he cautiously tears them off, he lifts the lid of the box and looks inside.

"What is it?" Elizabeth says in confusion as his hand reaches in and pulls out the item. It is an oval shape with a tip on one end, about the size of his palm. It is thin, like armor, but smooth like glass, the silver iridescent. The candles reflect in a range of colors that paint the ceiling of the tent, the flickers of light moving in an arc as he turns it over in his hand. Meliodas can hardly breathe as he reverently caresses his fingertips along the slightly concave shape.

"This… is a dragon scale," he answers. Meliodas shakes his head slightly. "I don't understand."

"A dragon scale." Elizabeth leans forward, peering at it closely. "It's very beautiful. I didn't know there were silver dragons."

"There aren't." He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to remember. Chandler had taught him more than he could ever hope to retain—what did he know about dragons? _Think_. "There was one, but…"

"But?"

Meliodas can only stare at the item in his hand. If this is truly the scale of a silver dragon, then it can only be from one. "The king of dragons. His name was Lodi. He was silver, but it's… it's just a legend!"

Elizabeth hums thoughtfully, sliding against him until her head nearly rests on his shoulder. "I think it's lovely."

"No, Elizabeth, you don't understand, this—it's just a story. I even wanted to be Lodi, when I was a child. I used to pretend I was a dragon and jump from the balconies."

The goddess laughs, startling him out of his bewilderment. "You must have been a handful for your tutors," she giggles.

"He was real." Meliodas' shoulders sag for a moment; but then he laughs, feeling an excitement he has not known since his youth. "He was real."

The two sit and admire the scale for a moment as he turns it over. If Lodi was real, then the Warrior may have been too. He shakes his head in curiosity, thinking he would share this story with Estarossa, and ask Chandler about it—but he can't, not anymore. Meliodas is a traitor, and a strange sort of sadness overcomes him at the thought.

"What is this?"

He looks up at the goddess, who is examining it closely. Meliodas follows her gaze back to the scale, and he sees it: something is etched into the surface.

Elizabeth reaches out to trace the symbol. The moment her fingers brush the surface, Meliodas jolts as if a bolt of lightning charges through him. Instantly he feels the familiar, deadly burn on his skin as the black marks swirl in their usual patterns. Quickly he draws it all back inside as his head snaps up. The goddess is stunned: not with fear or worry, but genuine surprise. Her hand shakes as she draws it away from the scale and to her mouth; then she watches as the darkness sinks back into his skin. "Did you feel that too?" she whispers.

"Yes." Meliodas gazes in wonder at the goddess. Is she changing him again, even now, even as he remembers with her touch? "I remember. The day I gave this to you—it was the day my powers manifested. The darkness began to grow as my magic unlocked. I was the youngest demon to ever experience it."

Elizabeth brushes his bangs back, tracing his heritage singed as a mark on his forehead. The graze of her fingertips feels electric. "I drew strength from this," she murmurs. "Strength from you, this entire time. Every time I needed help, I held your gift."

"It must have retained a piece of me," he replies. "The power was so sudden, I must have marked the scale with an imprint. You've kept a piece of my demon power all these years."

She smiles then, her fingers now tracing down the side of his cheek. "It was well kept, then," she says. "I like that we've been together all of our lives. I'm glad to be married to you, Meliodas. I've known you since I was newly born." Then she sighs and brushes her hand along the curve of the scale, giving him a deep shiver. "I wish I had known. I would not have felt so frightened."

"Frightened?"

Elizabeth nods. "I was scared of you, when we met. What you had said that day, of expecting a monster to come through the door… I'm ashamed to say you were right." She dips her head, allowing her hair to partially cover her face.

"I was… I was wrong as well," he admits.

"And to think you were helping me this entire time," sighs the goddess. She looks back at him, her eyes shining brightly. It strikes him then how the scale is the same shade of her hair. Elizabeth had drawn strength from him through the dragon scale… and he had heard her voice.

"Your power," says Meliodas suddenly. "You spoke to me on the battlefield, just as you spoke to the demons we created. You were the weapon of the goddesses and didn't even know it, but you called to me and I came to find you becauses of this scale and the connection it has held this entire time."

"Do you suppose so?" Elizabeth asks.

He nods. "It explains so much about how you can talk to the demons. And why…" Meliodas lays his hand over hers. "I've always felt as though I was missing something. Nothing interested me, and I thought it was boredom with the world. Now I realize it was because I was missing _you_." A ghost of a smile, a true, genuine smile, curls his lips. "No wonder I wanted you, wanted to protect you so fiercely from the start. And you were not frightened of me, not really. The first being to ever not cower in my presence." He laughs, shaking his head with realization.

Elizabeth leans forward and kisses his cheek. "I understand just how you feel."

Her nose brushes his, and Meliodas tilts his face to capture her lips. It is a brief kiss, her long lashes brushing his face, and he feels that it is finally time—time to make the goddess his own.

He places the box and the scale carefully on the table, turning back to take her hands. "You are my wife now," says Meliodas. "You are mine to protect and to care for."

Her eyes widen slightly; he is learning her little twitches. "What about… love?" she whispers.

 _Only fools fall in love, Meliodas._

It may be true, it may not; but as he pulls Elizabeth to him, he thinks, _then let me be a fool_.

His arms are around her in an instant, and the goddess finds herself flush against him as his mouth covers hers possessively. Suddenly she cannot get enough of him: Meliodas belongs to her just as she belongs to him, their souls have been connected for _so long_ , and instinct has her pressing forward, her arms around his shoulders, her face tilting to kiss him back. Her ears go hot with her bold move, but she cannot help herself, especially as his body slides against hers. A bit of doubt crawls into her spine— _what if he doesn't want this?—_ when he tips his weight forward until she is lying back on the pillows. Meliodas covers her body with his, their lips and tongues in a dance that stretches back centuries to the beginning of time.

She wants him, she wants _everything_. Elizabeth had lived a life of sacrifice and obedience, but with him, married to _him_ , she can have, she can _take_ , and take she does. Remembering their kiss days before, she bites his lip possessively and sucks on his tongue; her hands knead his shoulders and slide down his back, pushing against the dip above his waist. But then Elizabeth freezes. Her inexperience thrums in her veins as she realizes she doesn't know what to _do_ , what he likes, what he wants. She releases his mouth with a gasp, but the demon lets go a low moan, the sound filling her with an embarrassed heat that _she_ was the reason he made such a noise.

Tentatively her hands graze along the fabric of his shirt until they reach the first button. He is solid muscle, nothing but tight skin and deep valleys, and she admires the carved chest and arms that are revealed when she opens his shirt. It has just a moment, however, for her eyes to drag over the strong pectorals and the deep contours of his abdominals, for her fingers brushing over his body, solid as a rock, before he is on top of her again. The strong arms wrap around her to hold her closely in their kiss as his fingers find the buttons on her dress.

Elizabeth closes her eyes when the fabric is slowly peeled down her shoulders and arms, inch by inch of her body revealed to his gaze that she imagines is hungry and selfish. Once more she feels a weight on her chest, wondering if he has done this before, should she ask, does she want to know? _No_ , she decides as his lips brush the base of her throat and cause her to shudder. Meliodas moves over her and murmurs her name in a way that sends her imagination somewhere unknown. But when she opens her eyes she sees not lust or greed, but reverence, and she finds her confidence building with the sheer awe on his face as he unwraps her like a gift.

There were so many, before: more than Meliodas could care to remember, but never was it like _this_. The anticipation, the need so sharp and intense that he hesitates when her dress is at her waist. Does he even want this to end? But it must, it _has to_ , so he slides his touch back up her body. He doesn't know what to _do_ , for the first time in his life; Elizabeth is innocent, and his fear of hurting her fights with his desire to hear her scream in pleasure. _Does she want this?_ he wonders when Elizabeth lifts her hips, her teeth catching her lower lip as she slides the dress the rest of the way from her body until she is naked on the bed.

There was always a taking, a drive to possess and dominate, the need to get _going_ and to _finish_. But now he wants the ache, he wants the wanting, so his hands glide to the tops of her feet and move up her ankles. Then Meliodas caresses her: the shapely legs, her hips, the stomach that dips in as she arches on the bed. A little sound escapes her, and it is the sound of Paradise, he thinks. Then they move further to cover her perfect breasts, heavy and soft in his hands, the nipples taut and delicious as they press into his palms.

He wants to taste her. He wants to kiss every inch, to hear her moan, to lick her body until they are both satisfied. He wants to plunge his hands into her hair and her wings, to lay his head between her creamy thighs, to turn her over and explore her neck and back and backside. His mind flips through positions, words, touches, but it has lost all meaning. None of it will do for his wife; he cannot treat the perfect creature underneath him as if she is nothing, because she is everything. But where to start? Meliodas has never needed to care about another's pleasure, and he feels as though this is his first time again, nervous and trembling and unsure, his stomach twisting in a skittish anticipation.

"Are you nervous?" Elizabeth murmurs.

Meliodas kisses her neck. "Yes," he admits.

"I am too… I've never done this before."

Not knowing how to respond, he continues the trail of his lips. His hands are moving in excruciatingly slow patterns over her skin when Elizabeth groans. He looks up and smiles, his lips curving against her breast where he is laving at her nipple. Meliodas can sense the way her toes curl a bit and the few droplets of perspiration on her brow and taste the scent of her arousal as he glides over her so gently. Her hips squirm and her legs twitch and when they kiss it is wild, until she whines breathlessly for more. _She likes this_ , and he feels the swell of pride at her panting and her response to his touch and his tongue. Meliodas continues to experiment, wanting to find the right places to tease and bite until she is ready to receive him.

To his delight, it does not take long; soon Elizabeth is rocking against him, chasing his hands with hers, touching him freely. Meliodas is still wearing his trousers, and his sex is hot and tight inside, weeping to be released and allowed to begin the drive to ecstasy. But first he must continue to satisfy her, so he ends their kiss to leave a trail of small bites down the center of her body.

Elizabeth's arms fall away in surrender to him. The sensations are more than she had dreamed; no one had told her that such pleasure existed in the world. How could there be war when love like this exists? Her eyelids droop closed as a tear forms on her lashes, but the melancholy lasts for only a moment because Meliodas is kissing her stomach, hands hard and sure on her slim thighs, until he gently pushes them apart.

She gives a squeak of surprise. "Meliodas!" Elizabeth exclaims, wanting to tell him, _I'm not ready!_ But she _is_ , she wants him and this and to belong to him, she wants to feel him inside of her no matter how much it will hurt, no matter what the consequences are, _don't stop, please don't stop._

Yet there is nothing to fear. His kiss continues down to nuzzle on her mons before dipping to press against the spot that is making her insides throb.

"Yes!" cries Elizabeth, opening her legs wide and unabashedly now that he is licking her body. The terror she had known for this moment seems like a memory from another lifetime; this is bliss, this is heaven, this is an agony she never wants to end. Again and again and _again_ he tastes her body, his tongue gliding along her folds and lapping at the bud that buzzes under his attentions. She feels as though she is climbing towards something, like the first time she flew from the balcony window, the rush of wind and the lack of gravity allowing her soul to soar until erupting.

Then it happens: a moment comes that sends her melting and exploding at the same time. Elizabeth cries out in fear and pleasure, and his hands are soothing on her hips, rubbing her gently as he slows the frenzied kiss between her legs. But it won't stop, she is sure of it; the goddess will be lost to this feeling forever, a whirlwind of sensation and color. Needing something, _anything_ , Elizabeth reaches out for him, barely registering when his mouth becomes insistent on hers once again.

Meliodas chuckles to himself as she returns his kiss lazily, the taste of her mouth even sweeter than her body. He is _aching_ now. It was the first time he had done that—done _anything_ , really—solely for the pleasure of another. He feels as overwhelmed as Elizabeth must be. He never knew that giving her such gratification would be so enjoyable, so _satisfying_.

However, his desire for her is now painful. He pulls away to remove the rest of his clothing, grinning as Elizabeth looks back up at him with a flushed expression of lust. Her hands lay on the pillow next to her head, her chest heaving, her hair in tangled waves around her. Once he is free, Meliodas drinks in the sight of her as he parts her thighs. The sight and sound and touch and scent of her is all he knows.

Meliodas pulls her legs up and open, pressing her back, as he lines his cock to her entrance. A deep shudder rolls through him when he feels the wet heat that exudes from her body, his eyes rolling a bit to think of how it will feel for her tight walls to grip and milk him to satisfaction. The air grows tight as he stops, perched on this moment. Never before has he cared what the person beneath him was feeling; now he has Elizabeth, his match, his mate, and he crawls over her so their fingers entwine and he can kiss her nose.

"I won't hurt you," he whispers softly. "Relax."

Elizabeth nods, but her response is automatic. As he presses forward she tightens unbearably, so only the tip of him enters her body. He swallows her gasp with another kiss and rocks his hips, going only that first inch or so, until slowly she opens for him.

Every inch that enters her is wrapped in a liquid seal that sends flames of pleasure along his spine. Meliodas groans her name with each press inside, stopping to thrust shallowly until once more she relaxes in his arms. Anyone else he would be doing what he wanted, tearing her apart if he needed to in order to reach the point of release. Yet as frustrating as the slow pace is, it is also as sweet as she, and he rewards each of her sighs with a gentle kiss.

When he is nearly there Meliodas pauses to kiss her chest and her breasts. Her hands are moving through his hair and dancing along his shoulders. This is better than he could have dreamed, her lack of experience in no way a hindrance because _he_ is also out of his depth with her. "You're beautiful," he says, gently grinding his hips.

"Meliodas… please… oh please…" she moans.

He stops the movement of his hips and leans over her again to kiss her cheek. "What is it?" he whispers. "I'll give you anything."

Her arms move around his neck and pull him close, every inch of their bodies touching. Elizabeth brushes her lips on his ear, and his length twitches inside of her as he inhales deeply. "Love me," she whispers.

Meliodas jerks in her arms, looking down at her with flustered eyes. Elizabeth bites her lip, instantly regretting her request; but then he kisses her, deep and hot and lovingly, his affection so genuine and earnest her heart seizes. The demon begins to move again, his body rocking inside of hers with long, steady strokes. The pain is gone, the goddess now simply sensitive, her core igniting with electric sparks as he keeps pushing, pushing, deeper and deeper inside of her body. Meliodas is tearing her apart with pleasure, and Elizabeth welcomes the death of her life as a goddess to be reborn the wife of Meliodas.

He calls out her name with a cry and a shudder. Elizabeth presses her forehead on his as he pants, his body driving hard into hers as he fills her with his seed. His fingers dig into her back and his hips snap into her as her legs tighten around him, holding him close.

Then Meliodas makes a noise in the back of his throat of deep satisfaction. His face presses into her neck and his hands slide down to rest on her backside as she kisses his brow and rubs his back soothingly. They stay this way for a while, quiet and holding one another, their connection that has stretched their entire lives now bonded with this last piece. For the first time, Meliodas is _happy_ , his mind and soul and body satisfied, his heart calm in the arms of his goddess.

They spend the rest of the night dozing, whispering their love to one another, until hands and lips and bodies grow passionate and they join again, and again. The dawn stands poised to break when Elizabeth drifts into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When she awakes, he is gone.

* * *

Bright streaks of yellow and orange paint the world as Meliodas closes in on the gate ahead. The guards are ready as he had sent out his power in a warning for his approach, and he stops a respectful distance away to allow them the show of pointing weapons and demanding his business.

It is all theater, he knows. They know why he is here, and he knows they will let him by; nevertheless, he raises his hands to show he is unarmed. "I am here to see the Supreme Deity," Meliodas says. "Let me through."

Sure enough, the guards step aside, and Meliodas walks silently through the gate to the Celestial Realm.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two: En Prise

**Chapter Twenty-Two: En Prise**

 _Looking up at the stars, I know quite well  
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,  
But on earth indifference is the least  
We have to dread from man or beast._

 _How should we like it were stars to burn  
With a passion for us we could not return?  
If equal affection cannot be,  
Let the more loving one be me._

 _Admirer as I think I am  
Of stars that do not give a damn,  
I cannot, now I see them, say  
I missed one terribly all day._

 _Were all stars to disappear or die,  
I should learn to look at an empty sky  
And feel its total dark sublime,  
Though this might take me a little time._

— _W. H. Auden_

The palace is eerily quiet. The only sounds are the click of Meliodas' boots as he walks through the unfamiliar hallways. There are no guards, no servants, no one to challenge him or offer aid. There is only him, alone, his eyes scanning the dimly lit rooms on either side.

Meliodas tries to follow his memory towards the throne room. The last time he was here is now a blur of emotion and confusion, but now he walks with deliberate steps towards his destination. The guards had let him in easily, as he assumed they would, which means _she_ is waiting.

The familiar wooden doors come into view. Not only does he recall sensing Elizabeth behind these doors, her energy now as familiar as his own, but he also remembers the _first_ time he had been there. The silver box still lay on the table next to their bed, miles away in the Fairy King's Forest, and he hesitates for a moment to just _remember_ the agitation he had felt standing there, the impudence of the little brat he had been. This may be the last time he will enter this room, but it will once more be for Elizabeth's sake.

Wood scrapes against marble as the doors open seemingly on their own, and without further interruption he enters the throne room. It is also empty, except for the one sitting on the throne.

The sun is just beginning to rise, long strips of soft gold streaking the floor from the balcony window. There are sconces lit, but only a few, so most of the light actually comes from the queen herself. Meliodas wonders if she had set this for effect, because it certainly is striking. No one could hope to take their eyes off a being so magnificent, even though she is as dangerous as looking straight into the sun.

Ordinarily he would force her to greet him, but Meliodas is growing impatient of the games. "Do you know why I'm here?" he asks in way of greeting.

The queen tilts just her head, her wings folded neatly behind her, the shimmer of her dress sending little drops of light at her slight movement. "You're here for my daughter, at last. I knew this day would eventually come," sighs the queen.

"You're wrong," says Meliodas coldly. "I already have your daughter. She has been mine since the day she was promised to me." He stares at her stoically, determined not to give a thing away, to push the goddess inch by inch until he has what he wants. "I have come for answers to my questions."

He suppresses a flinch when the Supreme Deity laughs, the sound as golden as the light streaming inside the room. "You've taken everything from me," she chuckles. Meliodas can see a hint of her smile through the brilliance of her beauty. "You took my archangel. You took my daughter. You have my army. Now you want my secrets as well?" She shakes her head, golden tresses shaking with her laughter. "That is all I have left."

"Then an exchange," he proposes.

Her laughter fades as she shifts in the throne once more. "I want Elizabeth back," the queen replies.

"No. She's no longer yours." Meliodas clenches his fists remembering the _last_ time the goddess had her hands on Elizabeth, the way she taunted her, the attack she had sent without care for her daughter being caught in the middle. "I will give you answers of my own."

The queen sighs heavily, her shoulders rolling and her fingers drumming on the arms of the throne. "You have no answers," she snaps at him. "This war and this life was determined long before you were even a thought in the demon king's mind." She flicks her wrist, waving him away. "Come back when you have something worthwhile."

Meliodas growls under his breath. "Then I will give you myself."

He peers through the light to see her face change slightly. "And what exactly would I do with a demon?"

"I'll fight for you," replies Meliodas. "I'll defeat the demons and stop the king. Without me their side is already at a disadvantage. Now that Mael is gone you need a fighter. I will end the war."

"Hardly worth it," the queen scoffs.

"Then what do you want?" Meliodas shouts.

The queen's energy snares him, the light surrounding him in a tight grip that burns where it touches his skin. Meliodas curses as he lets go a burst of his own _Hellblaze_ , using the opening he creates to leap out of the thick of her magic. He had been so focused on her that he had failed to sense her surrounding him—he won't make that mistake again.

Once more she begins to laugh. It echoes through the room, chasing him, but he can tell that her magic is pulling back. "Oh don't be like that," she says. "I will accept your offer to be my soldier. In exchange I will answer one question."

The bargain is hardly a fair one, but Meliodas knows the negotiations are done. He nods, carefully moving back towards the center of the room. The queen regards him smugly, her magic moving around her in pretty patterns that almost remind him of the king on his throne. The energy licks at him, taunting him to come closer, teasing his dark nature. Inside he can feel the demon power wanting to emerge and fight, craving blood, desperate for the queen's head to roll down the marble steps and stop at his feet. It is a familiar burning, one he has had since childhood: to simply watch destruction at his hands, not caring for the consequences, not even for his own life.

But now there _are_ consequences, so he squeezes his fist slowly, pressing the darkness within. "One question," he echoes. "And you will leave Elizabeth alone."

Her expression does not change from its mild amusement, but somewhere underneath Meliodas can feel her power churning. "You've certainly taken a great interest in my daughter."

"And your point?"

"My _point_ ," snaps the queen, her voice tinged with irritation for the first time, "is that you would do well to leave her to me. You know you will only break her heart. Her naivete will stop being amusing eventually. There are plenty of beauties in the world. And her power is useless to you. You will hurt her, demon, and when you do she will crumble. You will destroy her in the end, all because of your pride."

Meliodas looks down at the floor, his blood pulsing with anger. "Lies," he says. "You goddesses are all liars. That won't happen."

"Demon," the queen calls sharply. He looks up to see her glaring at him in horror. "Have you fallen in love with Elizabeth?"

He does not answer, but simply watches as a deep flush rises up her neck. Slowly the queen stands, her eyes locked on him, pinning Meliodas where he stands. Her form manipulates itself as she walks down the steps, the dress swirling as her size adjusts to remain intimidating as she towers over him. Meliodas is determined not to flinch, keeping his chin raised and his gaze on her steady, unlike the day he stood before her as a child and looked away in shame. The urge is there, strong and insistent. Again the beast inside tries to strike, but Meliodas is nothing more than a statue at her approach.

The queen studies him, the room silent and tense until she says, "You have, haven't you? You're in love with her." A hiss comes through her teeth. "I knew this would happen. I told the king—"

The goddess cuts herself off to mutter under her breath; yet Meliodas is seized, his chest and throat tight, making it difficult to take a breath. "What did he say?" the demon asks slowly.

Her eyes flicker to the side, the act even more alarming than her unflinching stare. But instead of answering his question the goddess scolds him, "Falling in love is a very stupid move, Meliodas. Only fools fall in love."

His stomach turns at her words. "I don't believe you," Meliodas replies. _Goddesses are liars._

She snorts dismissively. "Is that so? Look at your brother. Last night, as you were fighting your own clansmen, he was learning this very lesson. The vampires are gone, along with the one he fancied so much."

"What did you do?" Meliodas asks, his voice dangerous, like the threat of thunder.

"I did nothing," she retorts. "The king's executioner carried out his orders. What is done is done."

Her dismissive tone is insulting, but it means nothing compared to the roaring pulse inside of his body. The vampire girl is dead? All of them dead at his hand… the vision of Zeldris sobbing into the dirt plays in a loop in his mind's eye as his promise to help echoes hollowly in his ear. "How do you know this?" he demands.

"I know everything," she laughs, turning to climb the steps and take her throne again.

Meliodas watches her, his rage thrashing and boiling, but he manages a tiny sliver of hope: _she doesn't know everything_. Their marriage vows are still secret. Elizabeth is his wife, and the queen does not yet know. _She cannot know_. Meliodas wills himself to stay, _stay put_ , not for himself but for her, so he is not the next to be wailing on the ground for his love. He must make sure the queen—and the king, for that matter—never learn their secret.

"You were much more interesting, before," the queen calls to him, pulling his attention back to her. "Nothing to say for your poor brother? Not even a laugh at his misfortune? Or to me, for enjoying it?" The deity tsks as she stretches back into the throne. "The rumors about you have been true, I suppose. The callous demon without emotion or care. And here I thought you were capable of loving my Elizabeth."

"Enough of this," he growls. "Do we have a deal or not?"

"I have another condition," she says haughtily. Her fingers go white as she grips the throne, the cords in her neck sharp and grotesque with her trembling.

Narrowing his eyes, Meliodas says, "Go on."

"You will not marry her."

A sick feelings fills his veins at her command. Before he can question her, the queen continues, "Do not marry Elizabeth. Do not take her as your wife in _any_ form. You will _not_ defile my daughter."

 _Defile her_. Meliodas can feel Elizabeth's lips on his cheek, her body under his, her breath as she moaned against his hair. The queen is taunting him, he knows this: it is a part of the game, the one between the king and queen, the one whose rules and moves are known only to them. But why?

"Why?" he hisses. By the gods it is _everything_ within him not to strike her down, to give his life just to take hers, to have vengeance for all that Elizabeth has suffered. "Why would you promise her to me if I could not—"

"Is that your question?" the queen replies.

"Yes."

Her brows shoot up in surprise before her expression melts into something akin to deference. "It was a part of a peace treaty," she replies simply.

 _Goddesses are liars_. "All of it," he demands. "I want all the truth."

The queen's lips twist in agitation. "Our clans have been at war for centuries. It stretches back before record," she answers flippantly. "You know this. Everyone knows this."

"But why the _marriage_?"

Huffing, she continues, "The war was going nowhere. Both sides were evenly matched. Then with _your_ birth and the formation of _my_ archangels well…" The queen pauses, considering her words. "There was no winner. Would not be, anyway. With a treaty and a marriage, the clans would put aside their differences and tolerate each other."

The answer seems simple enough, which makes him suspicious. "Why Elizabeth?" he asks again. "Why me? The war didn't stop. Neither of you wanted to really stop fighting, did you?"

At that she laughs, the sound less charming this time. "How very young you are, Meliodas." His skin crawls with the sound of his name on her lips. "Perhaps when you've lived a few thousand years you'll better understand these things."

Now his temper flares, the ink on his forehead just beginning to bleed into sight. "Tell me what I want to know or the deal is off," threatens Meliodas. "I can take this to the king just as easily as I've brought it to you. I'm sure he would be quite interested in what your daughter can do."

The threat is meaningless, but the queen still reacts, her face beautiful in her fury. "If you bring Elizabeth within a hundred _miles_ of that place—"

"You'll what?" he snaps.

"I could kill you where you stand," threatens the queen.

"What were you doing all those times that Elizabeth thought you were fighting in the war and defending Britannia?" Meliodas asks.

Her demeanor changes immediately from rage, smoothing into a cautious suspicion. "These matters are not for your concern."

Suddenly Meliodas is struck with a realization. "This really is a game, isn't it?" he murmurs. "All of us—Elizabeth, Mael, Zeldris, Gloxinia—we are all just pieces in a game." His voice shakes and his hands tremble as a terrible heat burns through his veins. "You'd use your own daughter just to win. Just to win a fucking _game_."

"You judge me when _your_ king and father has done the same," she retorts. "Your prejudice allows you to forgive him while condemning me. And what about you? You did not take in Elizabeth because of _love_. You saw a weapon to use."

Meliodas shakes his head as his pulse beats unbearably fast, and the queen looks on with a sickening amusement. "No? Isn't that why you came here, to get information, only to find out the princess knew nothing? Isn't that why you took her from Belialuin, to learn her powers, to use her for yourself? Isn't that why you killed Mael, because you knew she was meant for him, that there would be a goddess born to surpass even _you_?"

"No!" he roars. Even if it was true—if it was, in the beginning—it isn't true now.

"You showed up at my door and stole away my daughter for _yourself_ , not out of any sense of duty for her. You never wanted to marry her before all this—you and I both know you refused many times."

"How do you _know this_?" His vision blurs as he tries to think—how? _How?_ The Supreme Deity cannot read thoughts, even though it seems that way, even when her smug smile is tearing at him worse than any weapon. The calm radiance of the goddess once more reminds him of that feeling of helplessness as a child, the day all this began. He remembers how the king and queen spoke to one another, their heads tilted together, their voices hushed so only they could hear.

"So naive," she sighs.

Meliodas takes a step backwards, struggling to maintain himself. All this death, and the years feeling empty, soulless, because he gave a part of himself to Elizabeth—all because of a game played between two gods in their infinite boredom. Love, life, death, hatred: it was all the same to them, just more pieces on the board. And the truth is now plain for him to see, so much so that he is angry it took so long to understand: there _is_ no reason for all of this.

* * *

Elizabeth wipes her brow, taking a long sip of cool water. The morning hours have been spent finishing her healing tasks. It has gotten easier with practice, but it is still draining, her body now drenched in sweat as the sun moves higher into the sky.

Blowing a slow breath out, the goddess glances around, hoping to see Meliodas. It had been startling to find him gone, her body still tired and sore from the lack of sleep and their lovemaking. No one could say for sure where he had gone, just that Gloxinia knew he went on an errand. This is not the way she had expected to spend her first day as a bride; but it is the reality of war, she supposes.

To their credit, most of the goddesses are pleased to speak with her. Many only heard rumors that the princess had taken off with a demon, so to see her so very like herself, her powers shared so easily, to be working and walking among them instead of over them, their hearts are renewed. Jelamet still will not even look at her, no matter how many times Elizabeth tries to catch her eye. She decides in the end it is all futile, focusing her energy on the wounded, and on Merlin.

Merlin, who happens to be missing as well at the moment.

Now that her first rounds are done Elizabeth decides to go hunting for the girl. She has not seen her since breakfast, but before she gets far the goddess is stopped by Ludoshel. "We need to speak," he insists.

Elizabeth nods and takes a few steps away so they can talk privately. "I'm glad to see you came through the battle," she says smoothly, deciding not to mention his rough treatment of her the day before.

The archangel gives a curt nod. "I am here because the queen commands it," he tells her sharply. "I fight for her glory and for our clan. Not any other reason."

"Not for Britannia?" she asks. "Not for the innocent lives being destroyed by this war?"

His lips twist in annoyance. "That too is only because of the queen's mercy."

"I see." Elizabeth folds her arms, her voice soft. "Then I suppose I should thank her."

"I am here for the goddesses," he repeats. "So I will put aside for now the crimes that have been committed against us. But I will not tolerate that demon being here."

Elizabeth takes a deep breath, drawing her shoulders back. "Meliodas has fought just as bravely as the rest of you. He saved many lives yesterday, and took many of his own clan members, for _us_."

"He killed my brother," Ludoshel seethes. "Does that mean nothing to you? He murdered Mael."

"No he didn't," she answers. "That wasn't Meliodas. And it wasn't by his command."

"They are all the same!" Elizabeth jolts a bit at the sudden violence in his voice. "The actions of one are borne by all of them! I don't care _who_ killed him. I saw him, princess." Ludoshel steps towards her, his voice dropping. "I saw the hole in Mael's chest, I held his lifeless body, my hands were covered in his blood. I don't _care_ which one of those beasts did it. I will not have _him_ here."

Elizabeth shivers at the look in his eyes, so dark and unnatural for the archangel. But her chest burns with anger at the injustice of his words. "And what about you? About us?" she argues back. "Mael oversaw the destruction of a city. He sent the goddess' light to destroy. He killed people. Don't we all bear that sin?"

"You don't understand _anything_ ," hisses Ludoshel.

"I understand enough," she whispers, and then pushes past him. An angry tear rolls down her cheek, burning against her hot skin, and she dashes it away as she walks by him, her anger at Ludoshel and his accusations churning inside of her.

"Where are you going?" he demands.

"To find Merlin." Elizabeth tosses over her shoulder. "You don't command me, Ludoshel. I'm not one of your—"

"Merlin? That little thing that has been running around the camp causing trouble?"

She freezes and looks back at him, gritting her teeth at his smug smile. "I had the pleasure of meeting her this morning. Pesky little creature, isn't she? The queen wanted her dead and yet here she is, still alive. And that's _your_ doing, isn't it, princess?"

A chill goes through her. "Did you do something to her?"

Ludoshel smirks, his eyes narrowing. "She's the one that started all of this, isn't she? She dared to take the gift our queen offered, then threw it in her face and refused Her Majesty's generosity. Mael was only there because of _her_." Elizabeth's eyes grow wide with horror, imagining how Merlin would have taken such an accusation. "I simply reminded her of her bad behavior. The girl took off, probably to go find someone else's life to ruin."

Elizabeth steps towards him, feeling the urge to strike him across his face. But she stops, her breath ragged and her arms trembling, determined not to stoop to such an act. "You are a monster," she says. "You are more evil than any of the demons you have ever cursed."

She takes off at a run, tears spilling freely now as she hurries towards the Sacred Tree. The fairies and goddesses turn to stare at her, but Elizabeth does not care as she pushes aside the hanging vines and stumbles to the meeting place under the tree, the same spot she and Meliodas had exchanged their vows the night before. She spots Gerheade and calls her name, and the fairy turns towards her from her discussion, dismissing the other fairy.

"Please," Elizabeth pants as she reaches her. "Your Highness, Merlin is gone! I can't find her anywhere, and I think… I think she was upset and snuck away."

Gerheade's face goes stern. "We need her here. She's part of the agreement. That girl is dangerous out in the world on her own."

"I think I know where she went," Elizabeth says suddenly. The color drains from her face as the realization dawns. "Ludoshel upset her. I think she would go back to Belialuin."

"You can't go back there!" the fairy scolds her. "Wait until Meliodas gets back, and then—"

"I can't wait!" she cries. "I don't know where he is. I need to get Merlin before something terrible happens to her!"

Elizabeth spins on her heel and takes off at once, her calls to stop following as her wings beat frantically to take her up and out of the Sacred Tree. The wind feels good on her face, drying her tears as she flies straight for the cursed city. Frantically she searches the ground as she flies, her eyes darting back and forth, hunting for a small head of dark hair. But Merlin is clever, and would have anticipated this; more than likely she is there already from some spell or another.

She tries not to panic as her flight path goes a bit erratic; quickly Elizabeth rights herself, focusing her attention on reaching Belialuin as quickly as possible. She remembers the choking air and the poison that had clung to her skin and tongue, the heat of the purgatory fire and the roar of the lightning. Her stomach churns at the thought of returning to that place of death, and fear grips her suddenly. Meliodas had said she would not survive without him.

But she must, she _has to_ , for his sake as much as Merlin's. Quickly Elizabeth sends out a prayer— _Meliodas, please, I need your help, please hear me_ —as she presses ahead. If she cannot hope to survive, will Merlin? What will happen to her when she arrives? The goddess presses her fist against her mouth, choking back a sob.

Finally the city comes into sight, and Elizabeth dives for the ground. The stench of death hits her before she finds her footing, sending her stumbling to her knees. She presses her face into the crook of her elbow as her eyes water and her lungs burn. With fearful eyes she peers around, frightened by the chaos that surrounds her, but then her heart pounds to think Merlin is here somewhere, alone.

She climbs to her feet, not knowing where to start, but determined to start _somewhere_. Nothing seems familiar, so she takes a few tentative steps. Ash kicks up underfoot, making her cough, the rancid air burning her throat like acid. Her head begins to pound as Elizabeth wishes for water, for a cool breeze, anything to give comfort in this place.

Then anxiety strikes. What if she isn't here? There are no signs of life at all, and it is hard to imagine anyone surviving more than a few minutes alone here. Merlin could be anywhere, she could be hurt or kidnapped or lost, and Elizabeth is here, wasting time. But where else? Where else would the girl even know to go?

Painfully she swallows before calling out, "Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

"Who are you?"

The voice, deep and setting off every alarm in her mind, startles her so badly she jumps. Slowly she turns, squinting a bit as sparks alight in the air, as if the air itself was beginning to burn.

Several feet away a hulking figure sits crouched on the ground. His hand is pressed into the dirt, as if studying it, but he does not turn towards her. Yet Elizabeth can tell by the size of his arms and thighs he will be massive when he stands, and the black wings that extend behind him identify him as a demon. As the realization hits her, so does a tendril of his magic, and at once she is consumed by it: a nightmare surrounds her, pressuring her from all sides, giving her the sensation of drowning.

Every pore, every hair, every inch of her is filled with it, and Elizabeth cries out, wanting to claw at her skin and tear it away. An agonizing minute ticks by as it searches her body and fills her mind and soul—then it releases her, leaving her panting and shaking in terror.

"Who are you?" the voice asks again.

Her face snaps up, eyes filled with fear. "I… I'm looking for…"

Elizabeth's voice fails her, and the figure slowly stands. He turns and glares at her, eyes dark and narrow on a face that would be handsome if not twisted with venom. The demon mark on his brow is partially covered by matted bangs that Elizabeth is shocked to see are the same color as her own. The rest of him is draped in twisting darkness, covering the mass of him, and once the demon reaches his full height he is towering over her.

"Are you a _goddess_?" he asks.

Her wings fold behind her in an automatic response as her feet take her backwards. He does not try to follow, but watches her closely with a steady gaze that fills her with dread. Elizabeth swallows around the lump in her throat and nods. "I don't… I just came here to—"

"I hate goddesses." Her breath catches; then he _smiles_ , his mouth curling into a grin that somehow makes him even more terrifying. "But I can't feel hate in my heart. I'm not allowed to. So when I see a goddess, I kill it, before I start to feel."

"You don't have to do this!" Elizabeth puts up her hand, taking another step back. "I just came to find someone, and then I'll leave. You won't even—"

"You lost someone?" He tilts his head to the side, as if considering her. "So have I, goddess. I lost my brother."

Elizabeth looks around, but there is not another soul in sight. "Maybe I can… can help you?" she offers.

"What is your name?" he asks.

With a trembling voice, she answers, "Elizabeth."

The demon jolts, his mouth dropping open as his eyes go impossibly wide. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth. Elizabeth, just like—just like _her_."

He advances towards her, and the goddess moves back, her palms up and facing him. "I don't know what you're talking about!" she shouts.

"Was it you?" he growls. "Are you the one who stole my brother? He sent me here to kill a goddess. And I did, I did it for _him_ , because I love him. I am the Commandment of Love. I obeyed him and killed that archangel and now he is _gone_. I killed him and it's because my brother went to see _Elizabeth_."

She whimpers as she listens, trying to piece together some sense. Killed an archangel? _It wasn't me, it was my brother_ , that's what Meliodas had told her—but not Zeldris, not the one she had seen before, who loved a girl who was doomed to die—there was another son, and he had killed Mael.

"You're Estarossa?" Elizabeth is trembling so hard that her teeth chatter. "You killed Mael! You killed him!"

Estarossa stops, freezing where he stands. His face smooths from anger to a blankness, until finally he smiles again. "You _are_ Elizabeth," he says. "You're the princess. We meet at last."

"Meliodas is coming," she says. _Please, Meliodas, please hear me!_ "He's on his way, he'll be here any moment!"

"Goddesses are liars," the demon spits out. "You are all liars, and you took my brother. I want to hate you, Elizabeth, so now you must die."

He lunges for her, and she screams, throwing herself to the side. She lands hard on her hip, rolling over with a groan to see him pulling a sword from the air. Elizabeth scrambles back on the ground, desperately trying to find something, anything to help, even something to keep her from slipping. But he strides forward on long legs and reaches her in seconds, the weapon flashing the orange glow of Belialuin behind them as he draws it outwards.

"Stop!" Elizabeth shouts.

A burst of light comes from her palms, blinding them both. Her scream mingles with his roar, and before she can register the smell of burning flesh she is on her feet and running, flying into the ruins of Belialuin.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three: CheckmateEpilogue

**Chapter Twenty-three: Checkmate**

 _Finished, it's finished, nearly finished,  
it must be nearly finished. Grain upon  
grain, one by one, and one day, suddenly,  
there's a heap, a little heap, the impossible  
heap. I can't be punished anymore. I'll go now  
to my kitchen, ten feet by ten feet by ten feet, and  
wait for him to whistle me. Nice dimensions,  
nice proportions, I'll lean on the table, and  
look at the wall, and wait for him to whistle me._

— _Samuel Beckett_

Elizabeth runs as if Death itself is on her heels. Belialuin is a mess of gray and black, only the foundations of buildings remaining among the piles of rock and brick and burnt wood. There are piles of debris everywhere, the air choking and thick. Even the sky is a smoky haze that is tinged a rust color from the blurred late-afternoon sun hanging among the murkiness.

She tries not to stumble as she picks her way among the rubble, pushing over planks that turn into cinder and dust as they hit the ground. The fires of Purgatory are out, and the remains of Belialuin sit as nothing more than hills of burnt material. There are no trees, no homes, not even the outline of the roads that weaved among buildings, the ones she and Meliodas had walked together on her initial visit to the city. It is as if an earthquake has leveled the place, which may be true. The Supreme Deity's power is unmatched, as is the Demon King's.

For a moment she freezes, pushing away the fear that comes as a sharp but distant memory, feeling her skin prick at the lightning and her senses fill with the pungent smoke of poisoned fire. But she needs to move fast, she _has to_ , before the demon that is hunting her finds her and kills her the way he did to Mael. Tears blur her burning eyes, but Elizabeth dashes them away, her hand leaving a streak of dirt on her cheek. _Merlin_ —Merlin is the only thing that is important now.

As quickly as possible Elizabeth climbs among the piles, searching for the girl. She wishes she knew what to do; how does Meliodas always find her? It has to be more than her calling to him, that he uses their connection somehow. Why did she never ask? Her heart tightens, and the goddess chokes on ash that floats on the wind. Her mouth is too dry and her throat too sore to call out for her, so she must continue searching the desolation alone.

With every step she listens for footsteps behind her, and every time the rubble is disturbed her stomach leaps into her throat. Eventually her arms and legs begin to ache, and then tremble; the demon magic is starting to invade her, even with the protection of her love. A tear slides down her dirty cheek. How can the remains of the gods' revenge be more powerful than how she feels for Meliodas?

Elizabeth ducks behind a small hill of burnt and broken brick, sitting heavily and heaving in one burning breath after another. The poison that lingers in the air makes her dizzy and nauseous, but the pounding of her heart demands the oxygen as she fights off panic. "Meliodas," she whispers, pressing her eyes into the heels of her hand. She doesn't want to call out for him, not here, not yet. It is too dangerous with his brother lingering about. She remembers how he had looked when he returned from the Demon Realm; those were his subordinates, what would his own blood do when he is spotted?

She allows herself three minutes only to shake and whimper into her hand. She counts three minutes exactly, and then Elizabeth swallows her fear and sick and forces herself to stand on trembling legs. Merlin is here, she knows she is, and more than likely she would return to where her home had been. But where is that now?

Elizabeth closes her eyes, trying to remember. They had not walked far, and it was evening, the sun behind them as it sunk into the west. The sun is now to her right, so she turns and heads with it behind her, the pale light making everything somehow look worse in the hazy atmosphere. The goddess tries not to look too closely as she walks, afraid of seeing a scarf or a doll or the piece of a picture that possibly survived. It would just serve a reminder of all that had been suffered here, and she must remain resolute if she is to get herself and Merlin out safely.

The dreaded sound of movement behind her sends a cold splash of fear down her spine. Without bothering to look, Elizabeth bolts ahead, her feet slipping, her hands a mess of scrapes as she carelessly braces herself against the jagged wood and rocks. There is a feral sound, like a hurt and wild animal, which finally makes her spin around to see.

Down she goes, rolling as she pitches forward when her foot catches on the remains of a house. When she crashes to the ground, Elizabeth groans, every part of her stinging and sore, fresh blood oozing on her leg. Coughing into the dirt, the goddess clenches her hands, nails digging into the dark gray ash.

 _I don't want to die here_.

The thought jolts her to her senses. Elizabeth sits up and pushes herself backwards until her back is pressed against the rubble. The sounds that had scared her are now further off; hopefully the demon did not see her fall, and is making his way in another direction. Briefly her eyes close as she struggles to maintain her breathing before looking down to inspect her leg. Glass shards are sticking out from below her knee, but it looks worse than it feels, even as she plucks them out one by one. Her goddess magic goes to work healing herself immediately, soothing the ache, and Elizabeth watches still in a bit of awe of what she can do as a goddess.

Elizabeth frowns, trying to decide what to do. Her other hand is still clenched tightly, and she looks down as she opens it, the clump of black ash blowing away. But beneath the cinders is a single, dirty white feather, and the goddess gasps.

It can't be her own, for it looks ripped nearly to shreds. A breeze picks it off of her hand and sends it away, and as her eyes follow its dance in the air she remembers how Mael had confronted her outside of Merlin's home. Her heart seizes as she turns her head slowly, searching, a strangled cry coming from her throat when she spots small footprints being erased in the increasing winds.

It hurts to stand, but Elizabeth grits her teeth and limps after the trail. There is another rise where homes once stood—where _Merlin's_ home once stood—and after a quick check of her surroundings, the goddess carefully climbs around the side.

Merlin sits at the bottom, her frame even smaller among the wreckage. With a sob Elizabeth skids down, throwing herself at the girl and hauling her tightly against her. "Merlin! Merlin I found you!" Her voice shakes as Elizabeth cries harder, rocking her slightly.

Merlin, however, remains frozen, and when the goddess finally pulls back and cups her face, her golden eyes are wide with horror. "Why are you here?" she hisses. "Get out! Get away!"

"No," says Elizabeth firmly. "I came to get you. You can't stay here—"

"I'm a curse! I'm no good! He said so!" Merlin pushes on her arms, but Elizabeth refuses to relax her grip. "Everyone dies, and I don't want it anymore!"

Elizabeth cups one of her cheeks, forcing Merlin to to look at her. "It's not your fault. Listen to me. It's not your fault." Merlin closes her eyes and grits her teeth, still pulling against her hold, but she goes on, "This is a war. People die. We have to go on."

"But Elizabeth!" Merlin twists away with a shout. "The war and everything… it's because of me! If I hadn't tricked them I… then my father wouldn't have…"

"No, no, Merlin." Elizabeth ignores her protests and pulls her close. She curls a hand around her cheek and kisses the top of her head. "You didn't do this. I know you loved your father, but you must believe that."

"But I didn't," she wails, gripping Elizabeth's arm tightly. "I never loved anyone! He didn't care about me, and I just wanted—I just wanted their powers—"

She cries openly now, Elizabeth rubbing a soothing hand on her back. "I wanted to get away. I just wanted to escape." Merlin turns her face and presses against Elizabeth's shoulder. "This war is because of me, because I was selfish. I wish I had never been born!"

Elizabeth's lip trembles as she lays her cheek on top of the girl's head. She simply holds her, allowing her to cry, a few of her own tears slipping down her nose. She wants to tell her that she understands, that she too was a prisoner of an uncaring parent, that she wanted nothing more than to escape once she realized there was more. But she does not trust herself with such a confession, not now, and just repeats, "It's not your fault."

Suddenly Merlin jerks up and looks at her sharply. "Then why!" she demands. "Why is everyone fighting if it's not because of me?"

Elizabeth frowns. "Merlin, this war has been going on since before even I was born."

The girl blinks in confusion. "Why?"

She opens her mouth to answer, but none comes. "I don't know," she finally says. "I wish I did, because I would end it."

"I don't know what to do," Merlin says softly. "I want to hate them. I want to kill them. I want…" Her expression goes a bit blank, as if looking at nothing. "I don't know what I want anymore."

Her voice fades away, and Elizabeth strokes her cheek. Then she brushes back the girl's stringy bangs that cling to her flushed skin and kisses her forehead. "You are blessed, Merlin," says Elizabeth.

With a bit of a jolt, Merlin snaps from her daze. She stares at her with a sad sort of hope, and the goddess smiles. Rubbing her arms, Elizabeth dips her head to look her in the eyes. "Listen to me. This is no one's fault. You can't stay here, and neither can I. I'm taking you back to the Forest, and we will be together there, understand? You're not cursed. There's no such thing as curses."

Merlin bites her lip as her eyes go watery, and then she nods. "Good," Elizabeth smiles, smoothing back her hair. "I'm alone too, you know. So is Meliodas. We will take care of each other."

"Meliodas?" Merlin's eyes dart to the side before going wide. "Meliodas!"

Elizabeth turns to follow her gaze, her shoulders going limp with relief when she spots him running towards them. Merlin jumps to her feet and waves an arm, but Elizabeth stands much more slowly on her trembling legs. Then he is there, catching her into a tight hug and gripping her hard by the shoulders.

"I found you," he pants as his fingers squeeze. "I didn't… I found you!"

"I came to get Merlin," Elizabeth explains, taking one of his hands in hers. "I'm sorry, I should have waited, but I couldn't."

"I know." He looks down at the girl who is clinging to Elizabeth, reminding her of the first day they were together, inside of Gowther's house. Gowther, who had sacrificed himself so they could be together, one of many who had suffered for their choices.

"Meliodas," she begins, but the demon is looking around with a deep frown. "We need to go," he says. "There is a spell on this place, we have to move to the edge of the city so we can leave. And there is something here. Something off."

"It's Estarossa," whispers Elizabeth, and he turns to her in alarm. "He saw me when I arrived. I ran from him."

She notices the way the cords in his neck and shoulders tense. "Good," he bites out. "Now let's go, and hurry."

Meliodas grabs Merlin by the hand and the three start through the city, moving as quickly as possible. The demon navigates the place easily, but eventually must pick up Merlin to keep her from getting hurt, offering his free arm to Elizabeth to hold on to as the ground grows more and more uneven. None of them speak, and soon she is tired and sore, desperate for a drink of water, perspiration dripping from her skin and stinging the remaining cuts that dot her body.

Merlin is curled around him, her hands clinging to his damp neck, seemingly asleep. Elizabeth watches the rise and fall of her back, showing she is still breathing. Otherwise she is still, and with each footstep closer to their destination Elizabeth's insides turn as she worries if Merlin will make it, if the poison has overcome her, if it's already too late.

They stop, and Meliodas gives a curse. He looks absolutely furious, his jaw clenching as he says tightly, "Take Merlin and head straight. Get out of here as soon as you can. Go right back to the Forest."

"What?" Elizabeth chokes out as he hands Merlin's body, limp and impossibly light, into her arms. "What do you mean?"

"If you don't have the strength to fly then find somewhere to hide," Meliodas continues without an answer. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Elizabeth grips his shirt and gives it a sharp tug. "I'm not leaving you here! Come with me."

"He'll catch us," Meliodas says simply.

Fear grips Elizabeth. She nods, pressing her lips to his briefly, and then begins to run.

* * *

Meliodas nearly does not recognize his brother when he finally catches up to him. After Elizabeth had gone the demon had circled back, sending out his dark energy to mask her light and tempt Estarossa to follow him.

The gamble pays off. Soon he comes into sight, resembling a nightmare. Hair matted, lips pulled back in a snarl, muscles bulging under the ripped coat, Estarossa does not resemble at all the aloof brother he knows. Even in his most fanatic moments, he never seemed so affected or crazed with such emotion.

"Estarossa!" he calls, trying to sound neutral. "Why are you here?"

"I'm hunting a goddess," Estarossa replies. His voice is little more than a drawl, making Meliodas wonder how much he has had to drink. "Isn't that what we do, brother? Hunt goddesses?" He draws closer as Meliodas observes the mark on his forehead expanding. "We hunt them, we break them, we fuck them, we kill them. That's all those wretches are good for. Isn't that right?"

"Mind your hate, brother," warns Meliodas.

Estarossa halts, swaying on his feet a moment. "Why are _you_ here?" he demands. "You have no business in Belialuin. _I_ had business here. _You_ sent me here for the archangel."

"I never told you to kill him, you stupid shit!" Meliodas trembles as he holds on to his rage. The Commandment of Love is now dangerous to him, and he cannot allow hate for all that has happened to enter his heart. "I didn't tell you to kill him," he repeats, slower this time. "I told you to watch him and report back to me. You took it upon yourself to—"

"He insulted you! Insulted us!" Estarossa pounds his fist on his chest. "That filthy archangel dared to threaten you and _you_ told me to rip out his heart. I follow orders, that's what I am. That's what I did."

The wildness about him has Meliodas on alarm. There is no way Elizabeth has made it to the border by now; if Estarossa catches her in this state, he's likely to tear her apart. "You did," says Meliodas placatingly. "Mael deserved to die for what he did."

"Yes! Yes, you understand, I knew you would." The relief on his face fills Meliodas with shame, but he struggles to remain detached and impassive, even going so far to scowl. "You need to leave here before someone sees you," he admonishes his brother. "Go back to the castle and sleep off whatever you took."

"Someone did see me. A goddess." Estarossa's mouth curves into a sickening smile. "She said her name is Elizabeth. Isn't that the name of _your_ goddess?"

His stomach turns hearing her name come from Estarossa. "Elizabeth is the queen's daughter," Meliodas replies carefully. "The king saw fit to arrange our marriage."

"She's a beauty, that one," Estarossa says. "I can see why you didn't kill her."

"And you won't either." Meliodas lowers his chin, glaring at him in an obvious threat. "That girl is not to be touched. Do you understand? It's bad enough you killed the archangel; what do you think the goddesses would do if you took their princess as well?"

Estarossa reels back. "Who cares what they do?!" he shouts. "They are _goddesses_. They need to be eliminated from the earth." Suddenly his eyes narrow. "What is really going on? I know you won't lie to me. Demons do not lie."

Meliodas swallows nervously around the lump in his throat. No, demons do not lie. But now, for the third time in his life, he chooses to do it anyway.

"I have plans for her. I've been given my own orders from the Demon King."

"The king gave you orders." It isn't a question, and Meliodas is sure to keep his breathing even as Estarossa weighs the truth of the words. "When did he give you orders? What orders?"

"He arranged for this marriage," Meliodas replies. "He has been after me to marry her for years. He wants me to have claim to their throne and destroy them from within."

Estarossa will believe this, he is sure of it. And at first, his brother seems to relax, prompting Meliodas to nod. "Go back, Estarossa," he says. "Leave all of this to me."

He turns and begins to walk, his stride confident and deliberate as he starts in the direction Elizabeth had gone. Then behind him Estarossa calls, "You're lying to me."

Meliodas freezes, turning with a snarl over his shoulder. "Watch what you say—"

"He took your decree. You have abandoned us for the fairies. That's what they are saying, anyway." Meliodas turns his shoulder a bit to glare at him. "Were you a part of the group that attacked us? I'll bet you killed Zeno and Aranak too, didn't you?"

"That's enough, Estarossa—"

"You've turned traitor. You've sold our secrets to them for—for what? That's what I can't work out." Meliodas narrows his eyes as Estarossa frowns. "It can't be the goddess. You hate her. You don't want the throne or else you would have taken it by now." The demon clenches one hand into a fist as the other presses on his forehead, dark with the stain of his mark. "You know that Zeldris killed the vampires? He had to, you know… but I don't know why. He killed our allies while you leave us for our enemies. I don't understand any of this."

Meliodas bites the inside of his cheek, shaking with indecision: should he come clean, or lie again? But Estarossa peeks at him through his bangs, his face damp with perspiration. "Why? Is it a game, like when you went away? I can help you, you know… I can do things for you. Just tell me what you want and—"

"Estarossa." The demon's mouth snaps closed as Meliodas cuts him off sharply. "I said that's enough."

He turns to face him then, both hands clenched tightly, his expression dark. "This is a game. All of this is a game. Don't you know that by now? You, me, Zeldris, the goddesses, the fairies, _all of us_ are playing a game. And I intend to win. _Only me_."

Estarossa's eyes are wide, and he takes a step back in shock. "You should know this by now. All we've learned is for this war. There isn't a side, there is no _us_ and _them_. Otherwise how would this place be what it is now?" Meliodas gestures around, watching as Estarossa's eyes dart to the devastation that surrounds them. "Everyone plays for himself. Including you, and including me. Don't get in my way again, because the next time we see one another, one of us will die."

His brother's face hardens, darkness beginning to swarm around him. It weaves over his body, the silver hair blowing back as the strips of black swirl into a frenzied mass. Meliodas watches as he shakes, unmoved even when a tear slides down Estarossa's cheek. "Until next time, Meliodas," he says. His wings fold out; then he is gone in a blast of heat and wind, leaving Meliodas to watch in silence.

* * *

" _As the poets say: life is a game of chess, Meliodas. You can sacrifice any piece, but never the king."_

He wakes with a start, his chest heaving as the nightmare fades with every breath. Meliodas blinks as his eyes quickly adjust to the forest canopy above them; his training instantly alerts him to the number of fairies, goddesses, and humans in the camp, their power levels and positions, their intentions towards him. Most of the settlement is quiet, just the night guards on their rounds making any noise or movement.

Turning his head, he smiles a bit at the silver hair on the pillow beside him. Meliodas rolls to his side and slips his arm around Elizabeth's waist, drawing her against his chest. He nestles his face against the back of her shoulder, breathing in her warmth. The feathers of her wings brush along his body, enveloping him as if on instinct.

Meliodas closes his eyes, but sleep eludes him. The traces of his dream disturb the corners of his mind: something about Chandler, and the demon realm, some memory probably of the past. He thinks instead of where he was a year ago as he wandered Britannia looking for entertainment. Without thinking he gives a snort when imagining what _that_ Meliodas would think of _this_.

"What's so funny?" Elizabeth says sleepily.

"Nothing." He presses a kiss to her shoulder blade. "Go back to sleep."

"I'm up now." The goddess rolls a bit and smiles at him. "Are you okay?"

Meliodas nods as she rubs her palm along his forearm. "Yes. I was having a dream and it woke me up."

"What about?"

He shrugs one shoulder, propping his head up in his palm. "I don't remember much. Something about my tutor, Chandler. He practically raised me."

Elizabeth's hand pauses in its track along his skin. "Do you… miss them?" she whispers. "Your family? Your brothers, or—"

"No," he says quickly, cutting her off. Then he presses his lips to hers in a kiss before pulling back to murmur, "I love you."

Her palm moves to his cheek, her thumb brushing his lower lip, and Meliodas presses a kiss to it. Then she shifts to press against him, hugging him close and closing her eyes as she settles on the pillow.

Meliodas watches her begin to fall asleep. Eventually his eyes lift to scan the room, and they land on the silver box sitting on a nearby stool. There is a small bit of moonlight that dances along the silver leaf, the dragon scale still safely stored inside.

* * *

 **Epilogue: Endgame**

Belialuin is silent. Years have passed in emptiness since its destruction, and while most of Britannia has been irrevocably changed from the Holy War that continues despite the best efforts of Stigma. Yet this place is unchanged, and empty, so it is here that the two gods meet again.

The Supreme Deity smiles as she approaches the old king, who leans heavily on his sword. "Pleasant meeting," she says in a sweet tone.

The Demon King huffs a dark sound of annoyance. "No need for games. We have enough pieces in play."

"That is true," she agrees, but does not drop the loveliness of her smile or the lilt in her voice. "Yet the pieces are making their own moves."

"Your fault," he chides her. The goddess' mouth twists as she feels his black eyes fall on her. "What a clever move, to ally with the fairies and giants."

"Well you had the vampires, as much good as it did you," she argues.

The king growls. "That was _your_ fault too. As much as I didn't care for them, I couldn't have my son taken with one. That isn't his purpose."

"The way your other son has taken with a goddess?" she asks slyly.

"That's not _his_ purpose either."

The queen raises her chin, allowing her wings to unfurl. "I agree they have gone unchecked for too long. Once they decide to unite then the pawn will become a queen."

Her brow arches as the Demon King begins to laugh. The sound sends a wave of raw terror over the nearby territories, children howling in their beds as men and women become frozen in fear. But the Supreme Deity is not alarmed by such things, and only snaps at him, "What is it?"

"My dearest," he says gravely, "they have been married many years now. They were married before you made your ill-advised deal with Meliodas."

Humiliation floods the queen, her own power flaring out in a blast of light. Those caught outside for miles around lose their senses in that moment, babbling about angels and slaying themselves in a divine despair. "That little _prick_ ," she grumbles.

The king chuckles again, and the queen joins in in spite of herself. "Well done then," he says. "I would not have said he had it in him to lie."

"I will have to kill him for this," she sighs.

The demon nods. "But I'll need him to come back. I'm going to curse him to live forever."

"Spare some magic for my daughter?" the goddess asks. "If Meliodas is to live, then Elizabeth should die."

"Agreed."

A comfortable silence settles between the two as they both survey the remains of the greatest city in Britannia. "Shall we end this, then?" the queen asks. "This war has been going on quite some time. It's getting dull."

There is a pause before the king nods. "Fine. Once they are gone, we can announce a truce." His eyes once more flicker to the queen. "Shall we meet again then? Give the world some time to heal, then we can start another round."

With a dramatic sigh, the goddess replies, "I suppose so. A truce it is then."

The Supreme Deity and Demon King nod at one another, their agreement made, both knowing the other will certainly betray it. They part ways to their realms to begin preparations: once Meliodas and Elizabeth are cursed, whoever breaks the truce first will have the upper hand. Both return to their kingdoms to begin their plans, satisfied that their game will continue as always, neither knowing this will be the last gambit either shall make.

* * *

 **A/N:** I will keep this brief, so just thank you to everyone who read this story, thank you for every follow and every review, thank you for every private message, thank you for staying on this journey with me.

I am more grateful to Galfridus than I can ever say, who believed in me and this story before she even agreed to beta. This is her accomplishment as much as mine.

I will hopefully be along soon with something new. Until then, I hope you have enjoyed this story, and I look forward to your comments!


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